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43 

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WINDMILLS 

AND 

WOODEN    SHOES 

By 
Blair  Jaekel,  F.R.G.S. 


Author  of 
The  Lands  of  the  Tamed  Turk 


NEW  YORK 
McBRIDE,  NAST  &  COMPANY 

1912 


COPYRIGHT,  1912,  BY 
McBRIDE,  NAST  &  COMPANY 


PUBLISHKD  FEBRUARY,  1912 


SRLE 
URL 

5138317 


TO 

MY   AUNT 
KATE   FISHER  BLAIR 


FOREWORD 

To  put  before  the  prospective  visitor  the  many 
delights  and  few  disadvantages  of  a  territory  with 
which  he  may  be  already  more  or  less  familiar;  to 
help  him  to  form  a  comprehensive  idea  of  the  most 
of  Holland  within  a  reasonably  short  space  of  travel 
time;  to  refocus  the  lens,  to  readjust  the  vernier  of 
his  memory,  providing  he  has  already  been  there, 
so  that  he  may  take  a  truer  reading  of  the  country 
upon  a  second  visit ;  to  recant  the  praises  of  a  people 
whose  very  existence  has  been  and  ever  will  be  one 
perpetual,  indefatigable  struggle  against  the  most 
ubiquitous  of  all  of  man's  enemies — an  element  of 
the  universe;  to  give  a  brief  synopsis  of  what  a  vast 
amount  there  is  to  see  and  learn  in  a  country  so 
rich  in  accomplishments,  so  poor  in  area — these  con- 
stitute the  chief  end  of  this  book  of  travel  through 
the  Netherlands.  If  it  fails  in  its  mission  it  is  by 
no  means  the  fault  of  the  Netherlands  nor  of  whatever 
of  interest  is  contained  therein. 

If  the  text  and  illustrations  inclosed  between  these 
covers  cause  but  a  single  reader  to  live  again  a 
summer's  trip  through  Holland  or  prompt  him  to 
go  there,  there  will  be  at  least  the  satisfaction  that 
the  work  has  not  been  in  vain. 

[vii] 


FOREWORD 


The  author  takes  this  opportunity  to  express  his 
appreciation  to  the  editors  of  Travel,  New  York 
City,  for  permission  to  reprint  as  a  part  of  the  text 
of  this  book,  together  with  the  photographs  per- 
taining to  the  different  subjects,  certain  special 
articles  by  the  author  which  have  appeared  in  the 
pages  of  the  magazine  mentioned. 

BLAIR  JAEKEL, 
PHILADELPHIA,  PA. 


[viii] 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.     INTRODUCTORY 1 

II.     THE  ISLAND  OF  WALCHEREN     .        .        .14 

III.  FROM  MlDDELBURG  TO  DORTRECHT     .  .          29 

IV.  ROTTERDAM 45 

V.     DELFT  AND  HER  TRAGEDY         ...       59 

VI.  THE  HAGUE  AND  SCHEVENINGEN        .        .       75 

VII.  LEYDEN  AND  HAARLEM       ....       91 

VIII.  THE  CITY  OF  NINETY  ISLANDS  .        .        .108 

IX.  EXCURSIONS  ABOUT  AMSTERDAM        .        .123 

X.  ALKMAAR  AND  THE  HELDER      .         .         .     137 

XI.  FROM  HOORN  TO  STAVOREN        .        .        .     150 

XII.  FRIESLAND  AND  ITS  CAPITAL      .         .        .     165 

XIII.  THE  HINTERLAND  OF  HOLLAND          .        .176 

XIV.  GELDERLAND 189 

XV.  UTRECHT  AND  'S  HERTOGENBOSCH  .   .  202 

INDEX    .  215 


THE  ILLUSTRATIONS 

VETERANS  OF  THE  FISHING  FLEET  OP  VOLENDAM 

Frontispiece 

FACING  PAGE 

WOODEN  SHOES  OF  HOLLAND  ....  1 
THE  DUTCH  BUILD  GOOD  ROADS  .  .  .  .12 
LOOKING  DOWN  OVER  THE  ROOFS  OF  MIDDELBURG  20 
THE  OLD  CHURCH  TOWER  AND  LIGHTHOUSE  OF 

WESTKAPELLE 24 

BEHIND  THE  DIKE  AT  GOES  .  .      go 

A  PICTURESQUE  CORNER  OF  DORTRECHT  .  .  40 
THE  ROMANCE  OF  ROTTERDAM  SHIPPING  .  .  44 
A  CANAL  STREET  IN  ROTTERDAM  ....  50 

THE  EAST  GATE  OF  DELFT 60 

THE  PRINSENHOF  IN  DELFT 68 

DUTCH  MAIDS  AND  WASHERWOMEN  ...  76 
THE  KURHAUS  AT  SCHEVENINGEN  ...  88 

A  STEAM  TRAM  ENGINE 92 

INSIDE  THE  GROOTE  KERK  IN  HAARLEM  .  .104 
THE  ROYAL  PALACE,  AMSTERDAM  .  .  .112 
DIAMOND  WORKERS  IN  AMSTERDAM  .  .  .116 
A  WATERFRONT  STREET  IN  VOLENDAM  .  .124 

[xi] 


THE    ILLUSTRATIONS 

FACING    PAGE 

A  CANAL  BACKYARD 132 

CHEESE  DAY  IN  ALKMAAR  .....  140 

THE  DIKE  AT  THE  HELDEE 144 

AN  OLD  STREET  IN  HOORN 152 

HOORN'S  RACETRACK  ON  THE  MAIN  STREET  .  .156 
THE  METAL  SKULL  CAP  OF  FRISIAN  WOMEN  .  164 
LEEU WARDEN'S  LEANING  TOWER  .  .  .  .168 
THE  TOWN  HALL  AND  MARKET  SQUARE  IN  GBO- 

NINGEN 180 

THE  BEST  OF  KAMPEN'S  GATEWAYS  .  .  .184 
QUEEN  WILHELMINA'S  SUMMER  PALACE  AT  HET 

Loo 188 

THE  MARKET  AT  ARNHEM  .  .  .  .  .196 
THE  EUSIBIUSBINNENSINGEL  OF  ARNHEM  .  .  200 
UTRECHT'S  CATHEDRAL  .  .  .  .  .  204 
THE  OUDE  GRACHT  IN  UTEECHT  .  .  .210 


WINDMILLS 

AND 

WOODEN   SHOES 


o.S  8 


Windmills  and  Wooden  Shoes 


i 

INTRODU  CTOBY 

TAKE,  if  you  will,  the  state  of  Delaware,  some- 
thing less  than  half  of  Maryland  and  the  lower 
end  of  New  Jersey;  turn  them  upside  down; 
drive  Delaware  and  Jersey  and  the  most  of  Mary- 
land below  the  level  of  the  sea;  let  the  waters  of  the 
Atlantic  and  the  Chesapeake  Bay  seep  in  over  the 
low-level  territory;  dike  up  the  edges  at  the  weak 
and  exposed  parts  along  the  coast;  pump  the  coun- 
try dry,  and  keep  it  pumped  dry,  as  far  as  possible 
— then,  with  a  little  less  regularity  of  contour,  you 
will  have  almost  a  geographical  counterpart  of  Hol- 
land, both  as  to  acreage  and  topography,  although 
of  but  one  fifth  its  total  population.  The  Chesa- 
peake Bay  would  equal  the  Zuyder  Zee;  Baltimore, 
if  shifted  to  the  other  side  of  the  Bay,  might  be 
substituted  for  Amsterdam;  Wilmington  on  the 
Delaware  would  displace  Rotterdam  on  the  Maas; 
Hagerstown  would  fit  the  position  of  Arnhem ;  and, 
with  the  aid  of  a  little  elasticity  of  the  imagination, 


WINDMILLS  AND  WOODEN  SHOES 

Cape  May  might  be  mistaken  for  the  Hook  of 
Holland. 

Such,  in  brief,  are  the  physical  dimensions  of,  per- 
haps, the  most  unique,  the  most  remunerative  travel 
territory,  acre  for  acre,  in  Europe. 

Holland,  like  ancient  Gaul,  is  divided;  but  into 
two  parts  instead  of  three.  If  we  draw  an  imaginary 
line  north  and  south  bisecting  the  Zuyder  Zee,  the 
country  on  the  west  side  of  this  line  may  be  desig- 
nated as  the  more  be-traveled,  therefore  the  more 
familiar  part.  Hundreds  of  thousands  of  tourists, 
singly,  in  groups,  in  "  personally  conducted  "  parties, 
annually  make  use  of  it  as  a  playground.  Its  un- 
usual below-sea-level  scenery,  its  historical  buildings, 
its  marvelous  waterways,  its  sandy  bathing  beaches, 
the  life  in  its  cities,  the  poetic  costuming  of  its  rural 
inhabitants,  its  treasures  and  masterpieces  of  art — 
all  combine  to  fulfill  every  condition  required  by  the 
average  sight-seer.  In  no  other  section  of  Europe 
are  the  distances  between  places  of  interest  so  short ; 
in  no  other  section  are  the  modes  and  conveniences 
of  reaching  these  places  so  varied.  If  the  traveler 
relies  solely  upon  the  railways  to  carry  him  from  one 
point  to  another,  he  may  be  compelled  to  wait  two 
hours  in  order  to  ride  ten  minutes.  A  happy  com- 
bination of  the  steam  tram  lines,  the  railways,  and 
the  canal  packets,  will  enable  him  not  only  to  get 
about  without  loss  of  time,  but  to  penetrate  curious, 
out-of-the-way  parts  of  the  country  which  one  or 


INTRODUCTORY 


NORTH 


SEA 


The  shaded  portions  of  this  map  of  Holland  and  its  immediate 
surroundings  represent  land  that  would  be  under  water  if  by 
some  inconceivable  catastrophe  all  the  dikes  should  break. 
The  map  gives,  therefore,  some  idea  of  the  never-ending  strug- 
gle that  the  Hollander  has  faced  and  continues  to  face. 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

the  other  of  the  different  methods  of  transportation 
may  overlook. 

The  surface  of  the  territory  to  the  eastward  of  the 
imaginary  longitude  is  barely  scratched  by  the 
searcher  of  the  picturesque  and  historical.  Many 
of  its  towns  are  as  interesting  as  any  of  those  in 
the  west,  but,  as  a  general  rule,  their  peoples  have 
been  more  easily  influenced  by  German  and  Belgian 
methods,  and,  therefore,  their  characteristics  differ 
greatly  from  those  of  the  natives  of  North  and 
South  Holland  and  Zeeland,  for  example.  What 
evidences  of  their  history  and  art  these  towns  still 
possess  they  have  in  a  great  measure  failed  to  appre- 
ciate themselves,  and  it  is  this  lack  of  self-confidence, 
translated  into  a  complete  failure  so  far  to  advertise 
their  own  scenic  and  historical  virtues,  that  has  bred 
the  comparative  aloofness  with  respect  to  them  in 
the  manner  of  the  tourist  through  Holland.  Prob- 
ably the  majority  of  travelers  go  to  the  Netherlands, 
not  for  art,  nor  for  scenery,  nor  even  for  history, 
but  for  windmills  and  wooden  shoes  (to  epitomize  the 
characteristics  of  the  country  and  its  peoples),  and 
for  that  reason  their  wanderings  are  bound  to  be 
confined,  for  the  most  part,  to  the  exiguous  terri- 
tory bordered  by  the  North  Sea  on  the  west  and  the 
Zuyder  Zee  on  the  east. 

The  omnipresent  story  of  Holland  is  the  story  of 
its  fight  against  the  waters.  Its  other  conquests  pale 
before  it.  Its  eighty  years'  revolution  against  the 


INTRODUCTORY 


Spaniards  cannot  compare  with  it.  Water  is  Hol- 
land's perpetual  and  merciless  enemy ;  so  much  so 
that  if  all  the  dikes  that  protect  her  from  the  waters 
of  the  ocean  burst  to-night,  to-morrow  there  would 
be  but  a  third  of  the  country  left.  How  she  has 
conquered  would  fill  a  book  in  itself.  Since  the 
Frisian  monks  first  commenced  to  dike  in  the  country, 
successive  inundations  have  blotted  out  the  lives  of 
more  of  her  people  than  all  her  conquests  at  arms 
put  together.  But  still  the  Dutch  fought  on,  reso- 
lutely, unflinchingly,  persistently,  until  they  dredged 
what  land  they  needed  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea 
and  grew  grass  and  flowers  and  vegetables  where 
kelp  and  cockle-shells  thrived  before.  After  hun- 
dreds of  years  of  dredging  and  diking,  by  1833  Hol- 
land had  attained  an  acreage  of  8,768  square  miles. 
By  1877  she  had  added  another  four  thousand. 

Characteristic  of  the  Dutch  perseverance  to  con- 
quer the  menacing  waters  is  a  part  of  the  report  of 
the  commission  appointed  to  superintend  the  recla- 
mation of  the  Haarlemermeer,  an  inland  sea  that 
once  lapped  the  very  gates  of  Amsterdam  herself 
and  upon  which  a  fleet  of  seventy  vessels  once  gave 
battle.  "  We  have  driven  forever  from  the  bosom 
of  our  country  a  most  dangerous  enemy,"  said  the 
commission,  after  its  task  had  been  completed ;  "  we 
have  at  the  same  time  augmented  the  means  for  de- 
fending our  capital  in  time  of  war.  We  have  con- 
quered a  province  in  combat  without  tears  and  with- 

[5] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

out  blood,  where  science  and  genius  took  the  place 
of  generals,  and  where  workmen  were  the  worthy 
soldiers." 

Previous  to  1836  the  Dutch  had  tolerated  the 
Haarlemermeer.  In  November  of  that  year  a  vio- 
lent west  wind  lashed  its  waters  into  a  fury  and 
poured  them  into  the  streets  of  Amsterdam.  On 
Christmas  day  there  came  an  east  wind  that  drove 
the  waters  from  Amsterdam  over  into  the  streets  of 
Leyden.  This  was  too  much.  This  was  the  straw 
that  broke  the  camel's  back.  This  was  what  ex- 
hausted even  the  patience  of  the  Dutch,  and  they 
picked  up  the  gauntlet.  They  contrived  a  plan  of 
methodical,  systematic  attack.  They  diked  in  the 
Lake  with  a  high  earthen  cofferdam,  installed  a 
series  of  powerful  pumps  that  sucked  a  thousand 
cubic  feet  of  water  at  a  single  stroke  of  the  piston, 
and  they  drew  800,000,000  tons  of  lake  water  up 
into  the  surrounding  canals  to  be  carried  off  to  the 
sea  with  much  the  same  complacency  that  you  would 
imbibe  a  glass  of  soda  through  a  straw.  It  took 
more  than  four  years  to  complete  the  process.  When 
it  was  finally  finished  the  Dutch  struck  a  medal  in 
commemoration  which  bore  in  Latin  the  following 
matter-of-fact  inscription :  "  Haarlem  Lake,  after 
having  for  centuries  assailed  the  surrounding  fields 
to  enlarge  itself  by  their  destruction,  conquered  at 
last  by  the  force  of  machinery,  has  returned  to  Hol- 
land its  44,280  acres  of  invaded  land."  The  sig- 

[6] 


INTRODUCTORY 


nificance  of  the  Dutch  bon  mot,  "  God  made  the  sea ; 
we  made  the  shore,"  will  never  be  more  apparent 
than  when  you  look  out  from  the  car  window  across 
the  Zuidplaspolder  near  Rotterdam,  with  a  minus 
altitude  of  more  than  thirty  feet  below  the  level 
of  the  ocean  at  mean  tide. 

Holland  being,  as  a  whole,  the  lowest  country  in 
the  world,  is  protected  at  the  danger  zones  by  the 
great  dikes  upon  which  almost  the  entire  kingdom 
depends  for  its  safety  from  disastrous  inundation, 
and  which  require  the  annual  cost  of  maintenance 
of  approximately  $12,000,000  and  the  undivided 
attention  of  a  whole  department  of  engineers.  The 
mileage  of  the  canals  which  intersect  the  country  in 
every  direction  is  greater  than  the  mileage  of  the 
railroads.  First  and  all  the  time,  these  canals,  ex- 
cept those  constructed  for  special  purposes,  serve 
for  conducting  the  superfluous  water  from  the  cul- 
tivated areas.  Second,  they  are  highways  for  traffic. 
Travel  on  them  is  cheaper  than  on  the  steam  tram 
lines,  which  is  cheaper,  in  turn,  than  on  the  railways, 
for  many  of  the  latter  are  owned  and  operated  by 
private  companies,  as  in  England.  Even  some  of 
the  lines  built  by  the  State  are  leased  to  a  private 
concern.  But  unlike  those  of  England,  there  can 
be  little  doubt  that  an  investment  in  their  stocks 
is  a  paying  one,  because  railway  building  and  rail- 
way up-keep  in  Holland  are  comparative  sinecures. 
Grades  are  unknown,  curves  are  scarce  as  the  pro- 

[7] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

verbial  hen's  teeth,  except  in  the  approaches  to  a 
city,  and  I  failed  to  find  a  tunnel  in  the  whole 
country. 

But  touring  in  Holland  is  not  so  cheap  as  it  is 
either  in  Germany  or  France.  The  unit  basis  of 
Dutch  coinage  is  the  gulden,  of  value  equal  to 
slightly  more  than  two  francs  and  just  less  than  two 
marks.  There  is  even  an  oft  repeated  but  exag- 
gerated saying  that  a  gulden  in  Holland  will  only 
go  as  far  as  a  mark  in  Germany.  One  of  the  reasons 
for  the  expensiveness  of  travel  through  the  Nether- 
lands is  that  to  stop  at  any  but  the  so-called  first- 
class  hostelries  is  a  rather  precarious  business.  In 
spite  of  all  the  Dutchman's  reputation  for  cleanliness, 
the  less  expensive  hotels,  unlike  their  ilk  in  Germany 
or  Switzerland,  are  often  anything  but  scrupulous 
in  this  matter  and  sometimes  shockingly  unsanitary. 

The  system  of  Dutch  municipal  government  is 
almost  identical  with  that  of  Germany,  the  Burgo- 
master, or  Mayor,  being  appointed  by  the  crown 
instead  of  being  elected  by  the  community,  so  that 
a  man  may  follow  the  profession  of  burgomastering 
as  he  would  that  of  engineering.  It  is,  withal,  a 
system  that  might  well  supplant  that  in  vogue  in 
American  cities,  and  if  the  experimental  stages  of 
municipal  government  by  commission — lately  tenta- 
tively adopted  in  some  few  cases  as  an  expedient 
to  do  away  with  political  bartering  for  executive 
positions — if  this  form  of  government  proves  its 

[8] 


INTRODUCTORY 


worth,  the  professional  mayor  may  yet  become  with 
us  a  reality. 

School  attendance  for  children  is  compulsory  in 
the  Netherlands,  but  not  free.  The  equivalent  of 
eight  American  cents  is  the  charge  imposed  by  the 
State  for  one  week's  tuition  for  one  child  in  the 
primary  grades,  with  stipulated  increments  added 
to  the  fee  as  the  pupil  advances.  All  schools  are 
under  the  supervision  of  the  State,  and  if  a  family 
is  found  too  poor  to  pay  the  school  taxes  on  its 
children,  the  fees  are  remitted.  The  trade  school, 
however,  of  late  inauguration,  has  revolutionized  the 
old-time  classical  education  to  a  great  degree. 

Until  the  child  attains  the  age  of  thirty  years  he 
or  she  is  subservient  to  parental  authority  and  must 
even  obtain,  up  until  that  age,  parental  permission 
to  marry — and  the  matter  of  marriage  in  Holland 
is  by  no  means  the  least  interesting  of  the  customs 
of  the  country.  Courtship  is  a  protracted  affair 
and  follows  the  engagement  indefinitely.  Two  weeks 
prior  to  the  date  of  the  wedding  the  legal  declara- 
tion of  the  betrothal  takes  place,  consisting  of  the 
"  signing  on  "  of  both  parties  involved.  The  bride, 
with  apt  acknowledgment  that  an  ounce  of  preven- 
tion is  worth  a  pound  of  cure,  at  once  proceeds  to 
render  herself  immune  from  the  usual  deluge  of  cut 
glass  and  pie  knives  by  compiling  a  list  of  acceptable 
wedding  presents  for  the  consultation  of  her  rela- 
tives and  friends,  so  that  they  may  select  such  gifts 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

as  are  suited  both  to  her  needs  and  their  pocket- 
books. 

Of  the  civil  marriage  ceremonies  there  are  three 
classes,  not  at  all  determined  by  the  social  positions 
of  the  contracting  parties,  but  by  the  time  required 
to  tie  the  knot  and  the  corresponding  fee  imposed. 
A  first-class  marriage  may  be  performed  on  any  day 
of  the  week,  but  the  second  and  third-class  marriages 
are  conducted  upon  certain  days,  the  different  mem- 
bers of  the  City  Council  officiating  by  turns.  Each 
of  the  second-class  ceremonies  is  performed  sepa- 
rately and  the  ritual  repeated  for  each  couple.  A 
number  of  third-class  marriages,  however,  may  be 
conducted  at  one  and  the  same  time,  and  practically 
at  club  rates.  The  ceremony  in  this  case  is  not  alto- 
gether an  impressive  one  but  it  serves  its  purpose 
at  a  cheaper  price  and  is  more  quickly  over  with. 
The  methods  of  procedure  are  somewhat  as  follows: 

Brides  and  bridegrooms  to  be,  friends,  relatives, 
and  witnesses  are  ushered  into  a  large  room  in  the 
city  hall.  The  member  of  Council  in  charge  takes 
his  position  upon  the  dais,  and  the  clerk  calls  the 
names  of  the  contracting  parties.  They  arise  to 
acknowledge  their  identities,  which  are  duly  vouched 
for  by  the  various  witnesses  in  each  case.  The 
officer  then  proceeds  to  expatiate  upon  the  duties 
of  man  and  wife  and  upon  the  holy  bonds  of  matri- 
mony, directing  his  awesome  remarks  to  the  stand- 
ing couples.  In  closing,  he  puts  forth  the  question 

[10] 


INTRODUCTORY 


as  to  whether  each,  in  spite  of  all  he  has  said,  will 
take  the  other  for  better  or  for  worse,  abide  by 
the  laws,  and  love  and  cherish  each  other  until  death 
doth  part,  so  help  them.  A  loud  and  enthusiastic 
chorus  in  the  affirmative  is  followed  by  a  banging 
of  the  table  right  soundly  with  the  official  gavel, 
and  the  whole  company  is  forthwith  pronounced  man 
and  wife.  Of  course  it  is  assumed  by  the  conspira- 
tors which  maiden  the  functionary  has  pronounced 
the  wife  of  which  young  man;  at  all  events,  there  is 
nothing  on  record  about  the  wrong  husband  de- 
camping with  the  wrong  wife.  Order  comes  out  of 
apparent  chaos  and,  as  the  story  books  read,  they 
all  live  happily  ever  after. 

The  civil  ceremony  is  all  that  is  required  by  law, 
but,  possibly  to  moisten  the  already  well  executed 
knot  in  the  tie  that  binds,  many  couples  later  undergo 
the  religious  ceremony  in  the  church.  The  familiar 
wedding  ring  figures  in  neither  the  religious  nor  the 
civil  ceremony.  Each  member  of  an  engaged  couple 
presents  the  other  with  a  plain  gold  ring  at  the 
time  of  "  plighting  their  troth,"  as  we  observe  in 
the  novels,  which  is  worn  upon  the  third  finger  of 
the  left  hand  until  after  the  marriage,  when  it  be- 
comes a  wedding  ring  and  is  transferred  to  the  right 
hand. 

Until  the  advent  of  the  little  Princess  Juliana 
Holland  realized  her  danger  of  being  ultimately  ab- 
sorbed by  Germany.  A  German  Prince  had  married 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

the  sovereign  of  the  Dutch  nation,  and  German 
journals  were  not  reticent  in  suggesting  that,  in 
the  event  of  Queen  Wilhelmina  leaving  no  direct 
issue,  the  succession  should  revert  to  the  family  of 
the  Prince  Consort.  Moreover,  Germany  had  ever 
been  jealous  of  Holland's  possession  of  the  mouth 
of  the  greatest  of  German  rivers — the  Rhine,  of 
which  she  sought  the  control  from  its  source  to  the 
sea.  Germany  also  had  an  eye  upon  Holland's  pos- 
sessions for  her  own  colonization — possessions  that 
give  this  little  country  second  place  among  the  colo- 
nial powers  of  the  world  and  which,  in  the  Far  East 
alone,  aggregate  in  acreage  fourteen  times  her  own 
area.  But  the  birth  of  Juliana  precluded  all  im- 
mediate possibility  of  German  usurpation,  and  the 
Hollanders  didn't  convalesce  from  the  effects  of  the 
joyous  news  for  a  whole  week. 

The  Dutch  are  an  intensely  patriotic  people  and 
have  made  heroic  sacrifices  to  maintain  the  inde- 
pendence now  assured  them  by  the  powers  of  the 
world — and  the  birth  of  Juliana.  They  are  phleg- 
matic rather  than  impetuous;  stoical  rather  than 
demonstrative;  impassive  rather  than  excitable.  By 
virtue  of  their  country's  unique  maritime  position  it 
has  bred  the  naval  heroes,  navigators,  discoverers, 
and  engineers  whose  names  will  remain  synonymous 
for  indomitable  pluck  so  long  as  there  exists  a  his- 
tory of  unequal  fighting.  By  reason  of  the  wealth 
derived  from  the  foreign  trade  that  these  men  made 

[12] 


rt    rt 

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INTRODUCTORY 


possible  it  has  fostered  conspicuous  groups  of  artists 
and  scholars  and  scientists  who  in  their  times  were 
the  leaders  of  their  guilds. 

It  is  with  keen  appreciation  of  the  characteristics 
of  the  Hollander  which  enable  him  to  offer  to  the 
traveling  world  so  delightful  a  handmade  territory, 
that  I  turn  to  the  pages  of  "  The  Traveler "  by 
Oliver  Goldsmith  and  quote  a  short  summary  of  Hol- 
land from  the  pen  of  one  who  traveled  and  observed, 
and  who,  by  his  enviable  powers  of  description, 
analysis,  and  condensation,  could  epitomize  a  volume 
of  significance  in  a  single  word  of  syncope. 

"  To  men  of  other  minds  my  fancy  flies, 
Embosom'd  in  the  deep  where  Holland  lies. 
Methinks  her  patient  sons  before  me  stand, 
Where  the  broad  ocean  leans  against  the  land, 
And,  sedulous  to  stop  the  coming  tide, 
Lift  the  tall  rampire's  artificial  pride. 
Onward,  methinks,  and  diligently  slow, 
The  firm  connected  bulwark  seems  to  grow  ; 
Spreading  its  long  arms  amidst  the  watery  roar, 
Scoops  out  an  empire  and  usurps  the  shore. 
While  the  pent  ocean,  rising  o'er  the  pile, 
Sees  an  amphibious  world  beneath  her  smile  ; 
The  slow  canal,  the  yellow  blossom'd  vale, 
The  willow-tufted  bank,  the  gliding  sail, 
The  crowded  mart,  the  cultivated  plain, 
A  new  creation  rescued  from  his  reign." 


II 

THE  ISLAND  OF  WAL.CHEREN 

IT  must  be  because  the  province  of  Zeeland  seems 
too  fearfully  close  to  be  interesting  that  the 
average  traveler  through  Holland,  if  he  enter 
by  Flushing — one  of  the  little  country's  two  princi- 
pal sea  gates — hurries  from  deck  to  dock  like  a 
somnambulist,  and  fights  for  his  compartment  in 
the  four-something  A.M.  train,  bound  for  Amsterdam 
or  The  Hague.  Perhaps,  after  being  wakened  most 
unsympathetically,  if  not  rudely,  at  three-thirty  in 
the  morning,  he  feels  disagreeable  enough  to  take  the 
first  train  out,  no  matter  whence  it  cometh  nor 
whither  it  goeth.  But  in  so  doing  the  aforemen- 
tioned average  sight-seer  will  make  his  first  mistake 
— and  a  grave  one — with  regard  to  Holland.  Part 
of  the  best  of  the  country,  scenically  and  historically, 
is  just  at  the  other  end  of  the  gangplank. 

This  business  of  the  arrival  at  Flushing  of  the 
night  boat  from  Folkestone  at  the  unheavenly  hour 
of  four  in  the  morning,  ought  in  itself  be  sufficient 
excuse  to  go  first  thing  to  the  bedroom  steward  the 
evening  of  embarkation  and  whisper  unto  him  casu- 
ally but  firmly  that  the  odds  might  run  as  high  as 

[14] 


THE  ISLAND   OF  WALCHEREN 

ten  chances  to  one  his  name  would  be  Dutch  for 
Dennis  if  he  dared  to  rap  you  out  of  your  bunk 
earlier  than  six.  The  steamship  company  reserves 
the  privilege  of  putting  you  off  the  boat  at  seven, 
at  any  rate;  so,  to  arise  at  six  will  just  give  you  time 
to  array  yourself  in  the  proper  regalia,  indulge  in 
a  hurried  breakfast  of  ham  and  eggs  on  board  (at 
a  shilling  an  egg),  and  climb  into  the  seven-seven 
train  for  that  capital  of  quaintness,  not  to  mention 
the  province  of  Zeeland — Middelburg.  The  four- 
something  train  ignores  Middelburg  with  a  passing 
snort. 

And  a  word  here  to  the  wise  is  sufficient:  don't 
settle  yourself  for  an  all  day  train  ride.  Don't  even 
exert  yourself  to  the  extent  of  hoisting  your  grip 
to  the  baggage  rack.  If  the  compartment  be 
crowded — which  it  never  is,  going  to  Middelburg — 
you  might  hold  your  suit  case  on  your  lap  the  entire 
journey  without  fatigue  or  even  ennui.  Middelburg 
is  four  miles  from  Flushing.  If  the  engineer  doesn't 
slow  down  to  blow  the  whistle  it  will  take  just  eleven 
minutes  to  cover  the  distance. 

I  have  anticipated  the  fact  that  the  sum  total 
of  your  baggage  will  consist  of  a  suit  case,  because 
personally  conducting  a  trunk  through  Holland 
would  be  just  as  incongruous  as  saddling  a  Shetland 
pony  with  an  elephant  howdah. 

There  are  two  methods  of  seeing  the  Island  of 
Walcheren,  equally  fascinating,  and  the  visitor  can 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

avail  himself  of  both  in  one  and  the  same  day.  The 
first  is  by  climbing  the  two  hundred  and  seventy-odd 
steps  to  the  top  of  "  Long  John  "  in  Middelburg,  and 
the  second  by  a  drive  around  the  Island,  covering, 
perhaps,  thirty  miles,  and  touching  the  three  prin- 
cipal places  of  interest:  Veere,  Domburg,  and  West- 
kapelle.  To  state  here  that  the  Island  of  Walcheren 
is  not  an  island  might  seem  a  bit  ambiguous,  but  it 
is  true,  nevertheless,  and  may  be  explained  away  as 
follows : 

Long  before  our  time,  perhaps  in  the  distant 
Paleozoic  age,  Walcheren  was  nothing  more  than 
shallow  water.  Along  came  the  Dutch — who  have  a 
happy  faculty  of  making  their  own  geography  as 
they  need  it — and,  seeing  prospects  in  its  develop- 
ment, built  a  sort  of  cofferdam  around  it,  pumped 
the  place  dry,  and  made  it  into  an  island.  It  made 
a  fairly  good  island,  and  in  later  years  they  grafted 
it  on  to  the  parent  land  by  a  long  embankment  across 
an  arm  of  the  Scheldt,  and  made  it  into  a  peninsula. 
A  peninsula  it  still  remains,  but  its  future  is  all  a 
matter  of  conjecture. 

"  Long  John,"  or  Lang  Jan,  if  the  sobriquet  be 
translated  into  Dutch,  is  practically  the  Washington 
Monument  of  Walcheren.  It  is  the  two-hundred- 
and-eighty-foot  tower  of  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  in  Middel- 
burg, capped  with  a  climax  of  forty-one  bells  that 
chime  a  quaint  fragment  of  some  familiar  popular 
melody  every  seven  and  a  half  minutes.  On  the 

£16] 


THE   ISLAND    OF   WALCHEREN 

hour  Long  John  literally  vibrates  from  foundation 
to  weather  vane  in  a  frenzied  endeavor  to  pour  forth 
in  toto  the  accumulation  of  more  or  less  music  ad- 
ministered in  small  doses  during  the  previous  sixty 
minutes. 

It  is  up  the  middle  of  Long  John  you  must  climb 
in  a  spiral  to  obtain  a  first  impression  of  Walcheren. 
It  is  a  tedious  task,  and  by  the  time  you  are  halfway 
up  you  are  blessing  the  memory  of  the  man  who 
twined  the  now  much  worn  hand  rope  along  the  steep 
staircase.  You  may  even  be  about  to  give  up  in  dis- 
gust, when,  of  a  sudden,  you  stumble  in  upon  the 
lofty  hermitage  of  old  Hendrick  Landman,  the  keeper 
of  the  bells. 

Hendrick  sits  serenely  in  his  armchair  in  an  ex- 
tremely well  ventilated  room  at  the  top  of  the  spiral 
and  lets  people  pay  a  small  fee  for  the  privilege  of 
climbing  up  to  have  him  point  out  the  view  and 
exhibit  his  mechanical  masterpiece  a  few  ladder 
lengths  higher  up.  Hendrick's  view  alone  is  doubly 
worth  the  climb,  and,  after  reimbursing  him  to  the 
equivalent  extent  of  about  eight  cents  in  American 
coinage,  you  will  also  have  to  admit  that  he  can 
certainly  keep  bells.  I  know  nothing  of  whatever 
else  Hendrick  can  or  cannot  do,  but  he  can  certainly 
keep  bells ;  and  after  all,  a  man  can  hope  for  nothing 
more  than  to  achieve  success  in  his  chosen  calling. 
Hendrick  also  takes  just  pride  in  the  condition  of 
the  Gargantuan  Swiss  music  box  that  is  responsible 

[17] 


for  the  two  or  three  bars  every  seven-and-a-half 
minutes.  He  oils  it  and  he  winds  it  assiduously 
twice  every  day  in  the  year. 

Taken  by  and  large,  Hendrick  is  an  unimpeachable 
bell  keeper. 

After  having  been  duly  and  visibly  impressed  with 
the  manner  in  which  Hendrick  keeps  his  bells  and  his 
garrulous  music  box,  it  might  be  well  to  tarry  with 
him  for  a  few  moments  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder 
and  attempt  a  squint  or  two  through  the  old  gen- 
tleman's telescope,  which,  from  the  appearance  of  it, 
might  be  a  lineal  descendant  of  the  first  ones  ever 
put  together  by  Zacharias  Jansen,  all  of  three  hun- 
dred years  ago  and  not  more  than  a  few  feet  from 
the  base  of  the  tower  you  stand  upon. 

Jansen,  the  inventor  of  the  telescope  and  the 
microscope,  and  Father  Jacob  Cats,  the  humorist- 
poet-philosopher,  were  contemporaries  in  Middelburg 
for  a  time,  and  the  town  claims  them  as  its  two  most 
illustrious  sons.  The  children  of  Jansen's  genius 
may  still  be  viewed  in  the  little  Museum  of  the 
Zeeuwsch  Genootschap  der  Watenschappen  (don't 
ask  me  to  pronounce  the  name  of  that  society;  it  is 
task  enough  to  spell  it  correctly)  in  the  Wagenaar- 
straat  of  Zeeland's  capital;  Father  Cats  will  live  in 
Holland  in  book  form  until  the  end  of  all  things. 

If  the  atmosphere  be  clear,  you  would  think  that 
a  strong  wind  from  the  north  could  topple  Long 
John,  including  bells,  music  box,  Hendrick  Landman 

[18] 


THE   ISLAND    OF   WALCHEREN 

and  his  telescope,  and  all,  upon  the  bathing  beach 
of  Flushing  itself — the  place  seems  so  close  below 
you.  Flushing  of  to-day  is  nothing  more  than  a 
pseudo  bathing  resort,  much  patronized  by  easily 
pleased  Germans,  and  a  handy  terminus  for  'cross- 
channel  passenger  boats.  But  the  name  of  Flushing 
also  means  much  in  the  history  of  Holland. 

Here  was  born  in  1607  that  popular  idol  of  the 
Dutch,  Admiral  de  Ruyter,  the  son  of  a  rope  maker, 
although  his  mother,  whose  name  he  assumed,  hap- 
pened to  be  of  noble  birth.  De  Ruyter  flourished 
at  a  particularly  favorable  time  in  the  middle  of 
the  seventeenth  century,  when  the  navigation  acts 
passed  by  Cromwell  placed  unbearable  restrictions 
on  trade  with  Holland.  The  ensuing  war  with  Eng- 
land called  into  play  de  Ruyter's  talents,  and  a  large 
majority  of  the  thirteen  great  naval  battles  fought 
within  a  period  of  sixteen  months  were  won  by  the 
Dutch.  It  was  not,  however,  until  a  later  war  with 
England  that  de  Ruyter  performed  his  principal  and 
culminating  achievement.  In  1667,  at  the  age  of 
sixty,  he  mustered  his  fleet  and  forced  a  fairway  up 
the  Thames  to  the  very  gates  of  London  herself, 
demolishing  fortifications  and  shipping  as  he  went, 
and  plunging  London  into  a  panic. 

Flushing,  too,  was  the  scene  of  embarkation  of  the 
unhappy  Charles  V  in  1556,  and  of  Philip  II  three 
years  later,  neither  of  whom  ever  returned.  As  you 
look  out  upon  the  Scheldt  from  your  coign  of  van- 

[19] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

tage  at  the  top  of  Long  John  you  can  almost  picture 
the  scene  on  the  deck  of  the  vessel  when  Philip  de- 
nounced the  Prince  of  Orange  as  having  thwarted 
his  plans,  declaring  the  innocent  William  an  ingrate, 
and  doubtless  a  host  of  other  names  unfit  for  pub- 
lication. 

It  was  Flushing  that  first  hoisted  the  ensign  of 
liberty  against  the  Spaniard,  Alva,  and  it  was  Flush- 
ing, during  the  Napoleonic  wars  of  1809,  that  the 
English  fleet,  with  the  ultimate  capture  of  Antwerp 
at  heart,  bombarded  so  vigorously  that  the  mag- 
nificent Town  Hall,  a  couple  of  churches,  and  no  less 
than  two  hundred  private  houses  were  razed  to  the 
ground. 

From  Long  John  one  can  see  plainly  the  towns 
on  the  north  and  west  coasts  of  Walcheren,  and  often 
even  the  spires  of  Antwerp  are  visible,  while  directly 
below — a  mass  of  red  roofs  punctured  here  and  there 
with  patches  of  trees — stretches  Middelburg.  To  the 
left  is  the  market  place,  bounded  on  the  north  by 
the  handsome  Town  Hall  begun  in  the  sixteenth  cen- 
tury, the  embellishment  of  whose  fa£ade  by  twenty- 
five  ancient  statues  of  the  counts  and  countesses  of 
Holland  helps  it  to  hold  its  place  as  one  of  the 
finest  and  most  interesting  late-Gothic  edifices  in 
the  Netherlands.  The  tower  of  the  Town  Hall  has 
a  chime,  too,  and  each  time  after  Long  John  so 
insistently  proclaims  the  hour  of  the  day  or  night — 
for  Long  John  takes  the  credit  of  giving  standard 

[20] 


2 
u. 


o  a 


c  1/5 


THE   ISLAND    OF   WALCHEREN 

time  to  Middelburg — it  must  get  a  bit  on  his  nerves 
to  have  "Foolish  Betsy  "  (Gekke  Betje),  up  in  the 
Town  Hall  tower,  rattle  off  her  cacophonous  con- 
tradiction a  minute  or  two  earlier,  or  later,  as  the 
case  may  be. 

To  the  right  is  the  peaceful  square  inclosed  by 
the  famous  old  Abbey  of  St.  Nicholas,  founded  as 
early  as  1106,  and  later,  in  the  sixteenth  century, 
the  scene  of  a  memorable  meeting  of  the  Knights 
of  the  Golden  Fleece. 

Then,  after  a  last  good-by  to  Hendrick  and  his 
companionable  telescope,  you  clatter  down  the  tower 
steps,  ignoring  with  consummate  contempt  the  twin- 
ing hand  rope  which,  in  the  ascent,  so  forcibly  ap- 
pealed to  your  avoirdupois. 

The  road  from  Middelburg  to  Veere,  a  distance 
of  three  or  four  miles,  is  brick-paved  and  lined  with 
trees,  as  is  the  habit  of  most  highways  in  Holland ; 
and  if  it  is  your  first  experience  thoughts  pertaining 
to  the  thoroughness  of  the  Dutch  will  doubtless  be 
in  order.  It  may  have  taken  more  time  and  it  may 
have  cost  more  money  to  lay  brick  roads,  but  then 
the  expense  and  labor  of  repair  are  minimum.  The 
building  of  roads  is  but  one  of  the  many  tasks  that 
the  Hollander  does  not  believe  in  doing  over  again 
in  a  year  or  two ;  so  he  lays  them  in  brick — and  the 
comfort  of  passengers  in  vehicles  is  of  no  considera- 
tion. There  is  a  road  from  Monnikendam  to  Edam 
which  might  give  a  horse  spavin  to  look  upon.  The 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

blame  for  the  wearing  out  of  the  road,  in  this  case, 
is  placed  upon  the  poor  beast,  and  down  the  middle 
of  it  they  have  laid  a  brick  paved  path,  the  sides 
being  merely  macadamized. 

The  landscape  of  Walcheren  seems  set  as  if  for 
a  theatrical  performance.  There  is  a  place  for  every- 
thing, and  everything  is  in  its  place.  Left,  a  tree- 
encircled,  thatch  roofed  farmhouse,  built  as  an  ad- 
dition to  the  barn  in  the  back,  so  as  to  save  a  wall; 
right,  a  line  of  willows,  all  twins,  that  fringe  a  road 
along  the  top  of  a  dike ;  up  stage,  a  windmill  of 
methodical  movements,  and,  perhaps,  a  sailboat  pass- 
ing slowly  along  a  narrow  canal — too  narrow  and 
too  high  above  the  eye  for  the  audience  to  obtain  a 
glimpse  of  any  water  at  all — giving  the  effect  of  a 
mirage;  down  stage,  a  black  and  white  cow.  Of 
course  it  will  be  a  black  and  white  cow,  because, 
figuratively,  you  might  count  the  red  cows  in  Hol- 
land on  your  fingers.  And  such  a  scene  is  not  typ- 
ical of  the  Island  of  Walcheren  alone,  but  of  the 
Netherlands  in  general.  Any  other  type  of  scenery 
might  become  wearisome,  but  possibly  the  brevity  of 
the  train  ride  or  the  substitution  of  a  boat  or 
steam  tram  trip  between  one  point  of  interest  and 
another  has  a  lot  to  do  with  relieving  the  monotony. 

Of  all  Zeeland,  the  particular  costume  of  that 
province  can  be  observed  to  the  best  advantage  on 
the  island  of  Walcheren.  A  milkmaid  of  Middelburg, 
for  example,  is  a  joy  to  look  upon.  Her  spotless 

[22] 


THE    ISLAND    OF   WALCHEREN 

white  cap  bristles  at  the  temples  with  kurkenkrullen 
like  the  antennas  of  a  prehistoric  beetle.  Her  skirts 
are  ankle-high  and  padded  generously  at  the  hips. 
If  she  be  naturally  rotund  and  the  skirts  need  no 
padding,  circumstantial  evidence  of  the  fact  is  suffi- 
cient to  stamp  her  the  belle  of  the  community.  The 
sleeves  of  her  bodice  are  very  short  and  very  tight, 
pinching  the  arms  above  the  elbows  so  that  they 
might  be  mistaken  for  a  pair  of  aggravated  cases 
of  inflammatory  rheumatism.  Of  course  the  sun  in 
all  its  glory  strikes  the  backs  of  these  arms,  for  she 
always  walks  with  them  akimbo,  the  better  to  balance 
the  pails  which  dangle  one  from  each  end  of  a 
wooden  yoke,  enameled  a  vivid  robbin's  egg  blue. 
But  the  redder  the  arms  from  the  rays  of  the  sun 
and  the  tighter  the  pinch  of  the  sleeves,  the  flatter 
the  chest  and  the  broader  the  hips,  the  sooner  will  she 
cease  to  be  a  mere  milkmaid  through  the  medium  of 
a  simple  marriage  ceremony  in  the  village  kerk. 

The  only  discordant  note  in  the  otherwise  har- 
monious landscape  on  the  road  to  Veere  may  be  said 
to  be  a  flitting  one.  It  assumes  the  distended  shape 
of  a  buxom  village  maiden  in  the  full  provincial  cos- 
tume— padded  skirts  and  all — astride  a  bicycle, 
spinning  townward  or  homeward  over  the  bricks. 
For  the  bicycle,  be  it  known,  is  the  natural — and 
it  has  therefore  become  the  national — means  of  loco- 
motion in  Holland.  Everybody  rides  bicycles ;  and 
since  the  only  hills  are  the  approaches  to  the  dikes 

[23] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

or  across  the  humpbacked  span  of  a  canal  draw- 
bridge, their  invention  has  been  no  less  a  boon  to 
the  populace  at  large  than  it  has  been  a  bane  to 
the  sight-seer.  In  The  Hague,  for  example,  they 
have  become  a  veritable  pest,  and  to  be  constantly 
dodging  them  in  the  streets  keeps  a  person  very 
much  on  the  jump. 

By  and  by  you  will  rattle  into  Veere.  You  can 
tell  it  is  Veere  by  its  church,  for  Veere's  church  is 
something  to  remember.  It  is  by  far  the  biggest 
thing  on  the  island  of  Walcheren.  It  is  the  first 
building  of  historical  or  architectural  importance 
that  you  will  pass  on  entering  the  town  from  Middel- 
burg,  and  its  immensity,  so  foreign  to  the  Veere  of 
to-day,  may  be  able  to  convey  to  you  some  remote 
idea  of  what  Veere  used  to  be  before  the  sea  leaked 
in  over  the  cofferdam  and  blotted  out  most  of  the 
place  between  suns. 

Built  in  1348,  this  church  weathered  even  the 
terrible  encroachment  of  the  sea;  but  along  came 
Napoleon  in  1812.  Napoleon,  being  accustomed  to 
move,  lock,  stock  and  barrel,  into  the  most  sumptu- 
ous quarters  of  every  town  he  visited,  took  a  par- 
ticular liking  to  Veere's  church  and  promptly  made 
a  barracks  of  it.  There  is  no  more  complete  method 
of  demolishing  the  interior  of  a  building  than  to  turn 
it  into  a  barracks,  especially  a  Napoleonic  barracks, 
and  since  the  Little  Corsican's  unwelcome  visit  to 
Veere  the  old  church  has  remained  ravaged,  mildewed, 

[24] 


tt  ~ 
o  rt 


u    >> 
°    I 

•o  g 

M 

bfl  w 

15 


"3  CO 

p,  M 

(0   e 


3  J3 


THE   ISLAND    OF  WALCHEREN 

and  decayed.  In  a  corner  of  the  east  end,  however, 
the  people  of  Veere  still  gather  for  spiritual  wor- 
ship. Twelve  years  ago  they  started  to  restore  the 
church,  but  if  the  receipt  of  funds  is  not  a  little 
more  prompt  in  the  future  they  may  some  day  have 
to  restore  the  restorations. 

Several  quaint  old  houses  of  the  sixteenth  century ; 
an  impressive  tower  at  the  mouth  of  the  harbor, 
whose  mate  lies  buried  under  the  sea ;  and  the  Town 
Hall,  containing  an  unimportant  museum  save  for  a 
few  royal  documents  and  a  richly  enameled  goblet, 
presented  to  the  town  in  1551  by  Maximilian  of 
Burgundy,  the  first  marquis  of  Veere — these  and  the 
church  are  the  sole  relics  of  Veere's  previous  pros- 
perity not  claimed  by  the  ocean. 

A  rapid  succession  of  long,  shady,  hedge-fringed 
avenues  lead  from  Veere  to  Domburg,  the  curious 
little  bathing  resort  on  the  northwest  coast  of  the 
island.  Approximately  halfway,  at  West  Hove, 
there  stands  a  famous  old  castle,  once  the  residence 
of  the  Abbots  of  Middelburg,  which  remains  in  such 
a  perfect  state  of  preservation — although  modern- 
ized, of  course,  to  a  certain  degree — that  in  the 
summer  it  is  used  as  a  sanatorium  for  the  poor 
children  of  the  Flushing  and  Middelburg  districts. 
Just  across  the  road  an  attractive  modern  building, 
more  like  a  country  home  in  design,  does  duty  as  a 
full-fledged  hospital. 

The  town  of  Domburg  gives  not  the  least  evidence 
[25] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

of  being  situated  on  the  seaside,  as  do  the  most  of 
our  Atlantic  Coast  resorts  by  their  bleakness,  but 
seems  rather  an  inland  village,  thickly  sprinkled  with 
and  all  but  completely  surrounded  by  trees.  At  its 
back  and  just  a  few  steps  behind  the  sand  dunes, 
lies  the  sea,  while  a  stretch  of  well  formed,  sandy 
beach,  which  entices  to  Domburg  each  summer  a 
goodly  number  of  Dutch  people  and  the  few  for- 
eigners who  know  of  its  charms,  slopes  away  beyond 
the  dunes. 

For  five  miles  farther,  to  Westkapelle,  the  road 
lies  first  behind  the  dunes  and  then  behind  the  giant 
dike  for  which  this,  one  of  the  most  exposed  and 
at  the  same  time  one  of  the  lowest  sections  of  Hol- 
land, is  famous.  Presently  you  find  yourself  bowling 
along  on  top  of  the  dike,  with  the  sea  lapping  rest- 
lessly at  its  thick,  bevel ed-stone  hide  on  the  right, 
and  the  village  of  Westkapelle,  nestling  some  feet 
below  the  water  level  even  at  low  tide,  yet  secure 
behind  the  backbone  of  its  protector,  on  the  left. 
This  dike,  being  of  necessity  one  of  the  largest  and 
strongest  along  the  Dutch  coast,  receives  the  tender- 
est  of  care  in  the  hands  of  the  Government,  for,  in 
case  of  a  break  in  it,  the  Island  of  Walcheren  would 
be  reduced  to  its  former  state  of  shallow  sea  water 
in  less  time  than  it  would  take  to  set  the  type  of  the 
"  scare-head  "  in  the  newspapers  to  tell  of  the  catas- 
trophe. The  laborers  who  are  constantly  employed 
at  work  upon  it  are  supposed  to  be  the  direct  de- 

[26] 


THE   ISLAND    OF   WALCHEREN 

scendants  of  the  Danish  fishermen  who  dragged  these 
waters  with  their  nets  far  back  in  Norman  times. 

Aside  from  its  dike  the  most  conspicuous  object 
in  the  vicinity  of  Westkapelle  is  the  lofty,  square, 
Gothic  tower,  belonging  originally  to  a  fifteenth  cen- 
tury church  burned  down  in  1831.  This  tower  the 
Dutch  have  aptly  turned  into  practical  service  by 
making  a  lighthouse  of  it.  The  powerful  reflectors 
at  its  top  have  a  radius  of  twenty-five  miles  or  more 
and,  even  in  the  daytime,  the  tower  is  as  much  of  a 
landmark  along  the  west  coast  of  the  island  as  the 
church  at  Veere  is  along  the  north. 

Driving  from  Westkapelle  back  to  Middelburg  you 
scarcely  pass  out  from  the  throes  of  one  tollgate 
until  you  are  enmeshed  in  those  of  another.  You 
are  assumed  to  be  honest  in  Zeeland  and  expected 
to  march  right  up  to  the  door  of  the  tollhouse,  pass 
a  cordial  time  of  day  with  the  character  who  keeps 
it,  and  pay  your  little  five  or  six  Dutch  cents  without 
even  so  much  as  giving  vent  to  the  time-honored  con- 
jecture that  the  farmers  thereabouts  must  be  too 
well  off  to  work  out  their  taxes  on  the  roadway. 

Nor  is  it  only  the  tollhouse  keeper  who  has  a 
pleasant  word  of  greeting  for  you,  but  every  native 
you  pass,  man,  woman,  or  child,  will  have  a  nod  and 
a  smile  and  a  cheery  "  Good  evening  " — although  you 
may  not  recognize  the  verbiage.  The  sturdy  truck 
farmer,  with  gold  earrings  and  cropped  hair,  trudg- 
ing homeward  in  the  wake  of  his  push-cart;  the 

[27] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

thickly  padded  maiden  with  her  dangling  milk  pails ; 
the  tiny  boys  and  girls,  diminutive  counterparts  of 
their  parents  as  regards  a  costume  which  wavers  not 
with  the  change  of  fashion — all  seem  to  think  it  their 
especial  assignment  to  treat  the  tourist  on  Walcheren 
as  a  visitor  and  not  an  invader. 


[28] 


Ill 

FROM    MlDDELBURG    TO    DoRTRECHT 

IF  the  American  traveler  expects  to  stop  off  along 
the  line  from  Middelburg  at  a  little  place  called 
Goes,  he  will  undergo  his  first  operation  with  the 
Dutch  language.  Should  he  fail  to  catch  sight  of 
the  signboard  that  proclaims  in  print  the  name  of 
the  station,  or  to  compare  his  watch  with  his  time- 
table in  order  to  ascertain  in  this  manner  the  exact 
bearings  of  the  point  of  stoppage,  he  will  probably 
be  carried  on  through,  for  it  will  not  occur  to  him 
that  he  had  planned  to  detrain  when  the  tin-horn- 
girdled  conductor  rattles  up  and  down  the  platform 
shouting,  "  Whose."  But  "  Whose  "  is  the  way  Goes 
is  pronounced — and  this  is  simply  introductory. 

Some  there  be  who  try  to  insist  that  we  have  noth- 
ing to  brag  about  in  the  way  of  euphonic  orthogra- 
phy, which  is  more  or  less  of  a  cold  fact.  But  then, 
we  are  used  to  it.  The  same  may  be  said  of  the 
Dutch  language,  and  it  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  Dutch 
are  used  to  it.  They  seem  to  get  along  with  it 
passably  well,  at  all  events.  But  their  ability  to 
master  the  impossible  does  not  alleviate  our  troubles 
in  the  least.  Any  nation  that  can  spell  "ice"  y-s 

[29] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

and  i-j-s  with  equal  complacency,  and  gather  the 
same  meaning  from  both  methods,  deserves  to  be 
misunderstood. 

The  Dutch  letter  g,  to  come  back  to  Goes,  strikes 
terror  to  the  vocal  organs  of  the  most  versatile 
linguist.  It  is  treated  with  somewhat  the  same  dis- 
respect that  the  Spanish  treat  their  j,  only  more  so. 
The  Dutch  pronunciation  of  a  word  beginning  with 
g  is  started  somewhere  in  the  anatomical  vicinity  of 
the  diaphram  and  allowed  to  percolate  up  through 
the  aesophagus,  gathering  harshness  and  strength 
until  it  comes  in  violent  contact  with  the  larynx, 
whence  it  is  finally  ejaculated  with  about  the  same 
sound  as  a  bad  attack  of  hay  fever.  I  quote  a  pas- 
sage from  a  certain  work  on  Holland,  the  author  of 
which  infers  that  if  any  person  not  of  Dutch  descent 
can  repeat  the  sentence  correctly  as  to  sound  and 
emphasis,  to  him  the  mastery  of  the  remainder  of 
the  language  will  seem  like  child's  play.  The  sen- 
tence follows :  "  Grietje,  gooi  geen  goeje  groente  in 
de  gracht."  The  interlinear  cribbing  of  it  would  be 
in  English,  "  Gretchen,  do  not  throw  any  good  vege- 
tables into  the  canal." 

But  since  the  Dutch  have  made  so  many  brave 
attempts  to  discover  a  goodly  portion  of  the  east 
coast  of  the  United  States,  there  may  be  found  in 
any  geography  of  America  a  number  of  proper 
names,  originally  of  Dutch  origin,  but  now  Angli- 
cized to  meet  our  requirements.  They  thought  so 

[30] 


•a 

e 
rt 


w  --3 

8s 
XJ 

J3  ^3 
O   cj 

-u    C 


rt 


CQ 


much  of  the  beauties  of  the  lower  end  of  New  York 
Bay  that  they  promptly  applied  to  it  the  term, 
"Beautiful  Outlet,"  or,  in  Dutch,  Helle  Gat. 
"Hell  Gate"  must  obviously  be  a  deal  less  difficult, 
although  scarcely  more  poetic.  For  the  same  reason 
does  the  Americanized  Cape  Henlopen  supplant  the 
correct  name  of  the  Friesland  town  of  Hindeloopen 
from  which  its  discoverer  hailed.  The  name  of  a  cer- 
tain street  in  lower  Manhattan  must  also  be  of  Dutch 
derivation,  for  our  word  "  Bowery "  may  be  found 
as  bouwerij,  which  means  a  "peasant's  dwelling"  in 
the  vocabulary  of  the  Netherlands.  And  these  are 
but  a  few  of  the  numerous  words  and  syllables  heard 
in  America  that  may  be  attributed  to  Dutch  influence. 

Hard  by  the  town  of  Goes  the  tourist  will  obtain 
a  comprehensive  idea  of  what  a  real  polder  looks 
like,  although  it  is  scarcely  distinguishable  from  the 
fact  that  all  of  the  scenery  along  the  route  from 
Flushing  east  is  typical,  below-sea-level  Dutch,  lav- 
ishly cut  by  canals  into  triangles,  trapezoids,  and 
parallelograms. 

A  polder,  by  way  of  explanation,  is  the  reclaimed 
bed  of  a  sheet  of  water;  and  since  the  greater  part 
of  Holland  lies  below  the  level  of  the  sea,  the  most 
of  it  is  polder.  Land  thus  reclaimed  is  of  extraor- 
dinary fertility  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  the  water 
under  which  it  was  once  submerged,  having  been 
pumped  into  surrounding  canals,  is  readily  available 
for  irrigation  purposes  in  event  of  a  dry  season. 

[31] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

The  initial  move  in  this  really  marvelous  process 
of  making  land  while  you  wait  consists  of  building 
a  dike  around  the  prospective  polder  to  fortify  it 
against  future  inundations.  Next,  they  literally  kick 
the  water  out  of  the  inclosed  area  by  means  of  a 
peculiarly  constructed  water  wheel,  formerly  driven 
by  a  windmill,  but  latterly — the  Dutch  having  be- 
come inoculated  with  twentieth  century  impatience — 
by  the  adaptation  of  steam  or  gasoline  power  to  the 
task.  Often,  however,  the  bed  of  the  marsh  or  lake 
to  be  reclaimed  lies  too  deep  to  admit  of  its  water 
being  at  once  kicked  into  the  main  canals  to  be 
carried  off  to  the  ocean.  Such  a  condition  of  affairs 
will  necessitate  the  lake  being  surrounded  with  a 
veritable  series  of  dikes,  each  higher  than  the  one 
before,  like  the  amphitheater  of  a  clinic  (a  slightly 
exaggerated  simile),  and  each  with  a  canal  on  its 
farther  side  from  the  polder.  The  water  is  then 
pumped  from  a  lower  level  to  a  higher  one  until, 
finally,  it  is  forced  to  admit  the  utter  uselessness  of 
trying  to  compete  with  the  Dutch.  The  polder  near 
Goes,  known  as  the  Wilhelminapolder,  is  something 
like  4,000  acres  in  extent  and  was  reclaimed  from 
the  sea  the  same  year  that  Napoleon  was  undoing 
the  history  of  ecclesiastical  architecture  in  Veere. 

Polder  making  is  a  specialty  with  the  Dutch  en- 
gineers, and  the  end  of  their  ingenuity  is  not  yet 
in  sight.  Even  now  they  are  making  gigantic  prepa- 
rations to  spend  upwards  of  $80,000,000  in  the  recla- 

[32] 


MIDDELBURG   TO    DORTRECHT 


mation  of  the  whole  lower  half  of  the  Zuyder  Zee, 
two  thirds  of  which  is  to  be  constructed  into  a  polder 
having  an  area  of  1,400  square  miles.  The  dike  will 


Harlingen 


Lemmer 


AMSTERDAM 


Elburg 

IIP"'' 

o  Harderwijk 


Weesp 


Dutch   engineers   are  planning  a  stupendous  project  to  reclaim 
the  shaded  portions  that  are  now  part  of  the  Zuyder  Zee. 

stretch  across  the  Zee  from  the  village  of  Ewyksluis 
in  North  Holland  to  Piaam  in  Friesland,  the  cost  of 
which  alone  is  estimated  at  about  $18,000,000. 

[33] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

On  any  other  day  but  Tuesday  there  can  be  no 
excuse  for  the  traveler  to  take  the  least  heed  of  the 
train  conductor's  garglings  and  stop  off  at  Goes ;  but 
the  costumes  of  Zeeland,  as  seen  at  a  Tuesday's 
market,  are  well  worth  a  break  in  the  journey. 

A  few  miles  beyond  Goes  the  train  crosses  the  Zuid- 
Beveland  Canal,  which  intersects  the  long,  straggling 
island  of  that  name  and  of  which  Goes  is  the  capital. 
The  canal  was  cut  through  by  the  Dutch  engineers 
in  1863-66  as  a  sort  of  apology  to  nature  for  their 
having  deliberately  closed  up  an  arm  of  the  Scheldt 
called  the  Kreekerak — a  body  of  water  that  the 
Dutch  never  trusted  since  its  contribution  to  the 
inundation  of  the  east  coast  of  Flemish  Zeeland. 
Previous  to  1532  that  east  coast  was  fertile  farm 
land  and  populated  by  peace-loving  peasants.  But 
in  that  year  the  dike  burst.  Three  thousand  inhab- 
itants are  alleged  to  have  perished,  and  the  locality 
is  still  under  water,  it  being  known  to-day  as  Ver- 
dronken  Land,  or  "  Drowned  Land." 

A  little  later  your  train  will  cross  the  Kreekerak 
on  the  embankment  they  built,  and  Bergen-op-Zoom 
is  the  next  stop. 

They  say  Bergen-op-Zoom  used  to  be  one  of  the 
most  flourishing  towns  in  the  Netherlands.  Doubt- 
less that  is  true.  The  only  flourishing  parts  to  be 
found  about  it  now  are  its  thousand  and  one  rags 
flourished  by  its  thousand  and  one  housemaids  scrub- 
bing its  thousand  and  one  doorsteps.  The  latter  are 

[34] 


MIDDELBURGTO,  DORTRECHT 

incessantly  being  cleaned  and  recleaned  by  the 
former  in  the  hands  of  the  intermediate ;  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  it  appears  as  if  each  maid  were  trying 
for  a  record.  Bending  double  or  down  on  their 
knees — in  every  conceivable  attitude  they  attack  their 
front  doorsteps  as  many  times  a  day  as  they  think 
necessary,  which  is  rather  more  than  often.  I 
have  never  read  a  consular  report  that  speaks  of 
Holland  as  a  territory  open  for  trade  in  mops.  They 
may  be  on  sale,  but  I  have  yet  to  see  one  in  action. 
For  one  cause  or  another  the  Dutch  seem  to  cling 
to  the  hand  method  of  wringing  the  cloth  over  the 
bucket,  then  bending  double  and  sloshing  it  from 
side  to  side  across  the  pavement  with  a  movement 
akin  to  that  of  a  nervous  captive  elephant;  but  per- 
haps for  the  reason  that  this  Dutch  method  is 
not  and  never  can  be  thorough,  do  they  deem  it 
exigent  to  repeat  the  operation  with  such  frequence. 

The  lesson  gleaned  from  all  this  is  how  the  Dutch 
have  beaten  their  lifelong  enemy,  water,  at  its  own 
game,  ousted  it,  and  then  turned  round  and  made  of 
it  an  humble  and  subjected  medium  for  keeping  the 
country  clean. 

Most  towns  west  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  are  so  notori- 
ously clean  that  even  walking  over  the  pavements  is 
not  encouraged.  For  reasons  of  his  own  a  house- 
holder will  continue  his  property  line  out  across  his 
two  or  three  feet  of  pavement  with  the  help  of  a 
chain  or  iron  railing,  more  or  less  decorative,  so 

[35] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

that  the  pedestrian,  when  he  comes  to  the  barrier, 
must  side-step  into  the  street  in  order  to  pass  it. 

There  are  four  or  five  other  features  of  Bergen- 
op-Zoom  that  I  remember  no  less  distinctly.  One 
was  the  imposing  old  Gevangenpoort  with  its  mas- 
sive brick  archway.  It  dates  from  the  fifteenth  cen- 
tury and  constitutes  one  of  the  few  remaining  relics 
of  the  ancient  town  fortifications.  Another  was  the 
accomplished  female  at  the  railway  station,  who 
served  liquid  refreshments  to  warm  and  weary  trav- 
elers and,  by  way  of  diversion  for  the  sake  of 
accumulating  a  few  extra  absurd  little  ten  cent  pieces, 
handled  the  baggage  of  arriving  and  departing  visi- 
tors to  the  town  with  the  ease  and  strength  of  a  full- 
blown dientsmann.  If  there  happened  to  be  too 
many  pieces  of  luggage  to  carry  at  once,  she  invari- 
ably remembered  where  someone  had  hidden  a  wheel- 
barrow conveniently  near  the  station.  This  she 
would  fetch,  often  without  the  knowledge  or  consent 
of  its  owner,  load  the  luggage  upon  it,  and  march 
off  with  a  dignified,  "  what-do-you-think-of-me " 
sort  of  an  air. 

Another  feature  was  the  glaring  heat  of  the  place 
— the  day  of  my  visit  being  a  rather  humid  one  in 
July ;  and  still  another — the  most  important  of  all — 
was  a  quiet,  shady  nook  on  the  low  portico  of  a  little 
cafe  just  back  of  the  Groote  Kerk,  from  which  shel- 
tered position  I  looked  up  more  than  once  over  the 
tops  of  the  trees  and  admired  the  lofty  steeple  of 

[36] 


MIDDELBURG   TO   DORTRECHT 

the  old  house  of  worship  through  the  bottom  of  a 
tall,  slender  glass. 

But  a  short  ride  from  Bergen-op-Zoom  brings  you 
to  Rosendaal,  which,  from  the  apparent  activity 
about  the  station,  might  be  by  long  odds  the  most 
important  town  in  all  Holland.  It  is  the  seat  of 
the  Dutch  customhouse  and  therefore  the  junction 
of  many  railway  lines,  north,  south,  east,  and  west ; 
or  vice  versa.  All  roads  lead  in  the  Netherlands, 
not  to  Rome,  but  to  Rosendaal.  To  explore  the  town 
is  scarcely  worth  the  trouble,  but  the  railway  station 
itself  deserves  especial  notice.  If  you  enter  Holland 
from  the  Belgian  frontier  it  will  be  impossible  not  to 
notice  it,  for  the  train  will  stop  long  enough  at 
Rosendaal  for  the  customs  officials  to  question  each 
and  every  passenger  personally  about  cigars,  per- 
fumery, and  other  dutiable  articles.  If  you  come 
from  the  east  or  the  west  it  is  eleven  chances  to  one 
you  will  have  to  change  cars  at  Rosendaal,  in  which 
latter  predicament  you  will  at  least  enjoy  a  stroll 
up  and  down  the  long  station  platform. 

This  Rosendaal  station  struck  me  as  being  about 
the  cleanest,  shiniest  place,  for  a  railway  station, 
at  which  I  had  ever  changed  cars.  Not  a  speck  of 
soot  or  dust  was  visible  to  the  naked  eye,  and  it  is 
possible  that  one  of  old  Zacharias  Jansen's  micro- 
scopes wouldn't  be  able  to  find  any  either,  although  a 
certain  few,  larger  and  more  grotesque  than  their 
fellows,  might  be  brought  to  notice  under  the  lens 

[37] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

of  an  instrument  of  later  model.  Every  doorway 
was  guarded  by  a  pair  of  little  boxwood  or  bay  tree 
sentries,  and  flowers  filled  the  boxes  under  the  win- 
dows. The  leather  tables  and  chairs  in  the  waiting- 
rooms  and  restaurant  all  but  suggested  a  Spanish 
Renaissance  influence,  and  their  great  brass-topped 
tacks  glittered  as  if  they  had  never  known  what  it 
was  to  be  tainted  with  stain  or  smirch — and  this  in 
a  railway  station. 

But  then,  a  Dutch  locomotive  is  not  nearly  so 
offensive,  I  might  say,  as  one  of  the  American  breed ; 
and  if  the  proper  legislation  is  forthcoming  we  shall 
be  sending  experts  to  Holland  soon  to  take  notes 
on  how  they  do  it.  All  .railway  locomotives  in  Hol- 
land are  under  the  supervision  of  an  arm  of  the 
government  service,  and  although  the  most  of  them 
bear  the  shop-plate  of  Glasgow  or  Manchester,  they 
must  be  equipped  with  an  apparatus,  not  only  for 
consuming  the  smoke  but  for  the  prevention  of  the 
emission  of  sparks  and  other  combustible  matter. 
Descriptions  and  drawings  showing  the  details  and 
workings  of  these  contrivances  must  be  submitted  to 
the  Supervising  Board  of  Railways  before  each  new 
type  of  locomotive  is  purchased.  Upon  its  delivery 
every  newly  purchased  locomotive  must  undergo  a 
thorough  test  and  be  approved  by  the  inspector  of 
the  Board  before  it  may  be  placed  in  service. 

The  same  regulations  apply  to  stationary  engines 
burning  bituminous  coal,  which  would  otherwise  emit 

[38] 


MIDDELBURGTO.  DORTRECHT 

great  clouds  of  black  smoke,  gases,  and  soot.  Re- 
strictions, in  some  localities,  are  even  placed  upon 
the  particular  kind  of  fuel  locomotives  may  burn. 
The  province  of  Zuid-Holland,  for  example,  has 
issued  the  eikon  that  only  coke  may  be  used  upon  the 
locomotives  that  traverse  its  railway  lines. 

A  few  miles  before  you  come  to  Dortrecht  the 
railway  crosses  a  long  bridge  that  spans  an  arm  of 
the  North  Sea  known  as  the  Hollandsch  Diep.  The 
actual  breadth  of  the  Diep  is  a  mile  and  five-eighths, 
but  its  projecting  stone  piers  cut  the  length  of  the 
bridge  down  to  slightly  less  than  a  mile.  This,  the 
longest  bridge  in  Holland,  was  completed  in  Novem- 
ber, 1871,  after  being  more  than  three  years  in  the 
building,  and  its  fourteen  arches,  with  a  span  of  110 
yards  each,  rest  upon  stone  buttresses,  the  founda- 
tions of  some  of  which  are  sunk  fifty  or  sixty  feet 
below  low  water  mark.  From  the  center  of  the  struc- 
ture you  may  look  out  over  the  Hollandsch  Diep 
on  the  left  and,  on  the  right,  the  eastern  end  of  the 
Biesbosch,  or  "  reed  forest " — a  great,  watery  dis- 
trict more  than  forty  square  miles  in  area  and  lately 
reclaimed.  It  was  formed  in  1421,  at  the  same  time 
and  under  the  same  conditions  as  the  Hollandsch 
Diep,  by  a  terrific  overflow  of  the  sea  that  blotted 
out  seventy-two  towns  and  villages  and  the  lives  of 
100,000  people. 

Dortrecht,  called  Dordt  by  the  Dutch,  is  prac- 
tically a  survivor  of  that  calamity.  The  town  was 

[39] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

founded  away  back  in  1008  and,  four  hundred  years 
later,  made  an  island  by  the  obstreperous  Merwede — 
the  name  given  to  a  short  part  of  the  river  formed 
by  the  confluence  of  the  Maas  and  the  Waal,  which, 
beyond  Dortrecht,  is  called  De  Noord  and,  by  the 
time  it  approaches  Rotterdam,  known  as  the  Maas 
again. 

By  reason  of  a  special  privilege  called  The  Staple 
— pure  and  simple  "graft,"  plainly  speaking — 
Dortrecht  in  the  Middle  Ages  was  the  most  prosper- 
ous town  in  Holland,  for  the  workings  of  The  Staple 
were  far-reaching  and  marvelous.  The  Staple  al- 
lowed Dortrecht,  by  royal  warrant,  be  it  remembered, 
to  act  in  the  capacity  of  a  kind  of  clearing  house 
for  all  goods,  whether  wines,  grains,  metals,  or  fab- 
rics, that  entered  the  domains  of  Holland  by  way 
of  the  Rhine.  Now  the  territory  punctured  by  these 
hundred  and  one  apparently  different  and  distinct 
rivers  that  so  muddle  the  geography  of  the  southern 
part  of  Holland  for  the  tourist,  is  nothing  more 
nor  less  than  the  wide-spreading  estuary  of  the  one 
river,  Rhine.  As  every  cargo  that  came  down  the 
river  had  necessarily  to  be  unloaded  at  Dortrecht, 
municipal  and  private  money  chests  burst  their  stout 
iron  hoops  in  their  efforts  to  contain  the  duties  and 
taxes  imposed.  And  in  this  kind  of  business  bucca- 
neering the  place  reveled  for  centuries,  until  Rotter- 
dam, overcome  with  jealousy  in  1618,  stopped  the 
procedure  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 

[40] 


* 


MIDDELBURG  TO, DORTRECHT 

If  Wilmington,  Delaware,  although  just  twice  as 
large  in  point  of  population,  could  boast  of  a  wind- 
mill or  two  and  a  few  odoriferous  canals,  bordered 
with  numerous  sixteenth  century  fa£ades  that  slanted 
out  over  them  as  if  in  imminent  danger  of  toppling 
into  them ;  and  if  she  had  a  narrow  street  of  rather 
serpentine  proclivities,  like  the  Wynstraat,  down 
which  the  rolling  stock  of  the  local  traction  com- 
pany, in  the  shape  and  vintage  of  an  ancient  horse 
car,  clanged  its  weary  way,  she  might  be  taken,  dot 
and  tittle,  for  Dortrecht.  Since  the  forced  abolition 
of  The  Staple,  the  most  of  Dortrecht's  40,000  in- 
habitants have  gone  into  the  more  legitimate  business 
of  shipbuilding.  But  Wilmington,  to  achieve  this, 
would  also  have  to  level  off  her  hills  to  a  certain 
depth  below  the  sea,  which  might  then  necessitate  the 
diking  of  the  Delaware.  It  would  be  a  mighty  task 
and,  after  all  is  said  and  done,  she  would  gain  little 
but  history. 

Here  in  Dortrecht  were  born  the  brothers  De  Witt, 
Cornelius  and  John,  whose  equal  as  councilors  and 
statesmen  Holland  has  not  been  able  to  reproduce. 
The  dome  of  the  ancient  Groothoofdpoort,  one  of 
the  town  gates  of  the  sixteenth  century  that  stands 
at  the  harbor  end  of  the  Wynstraat,  contains,  among 
other  relics,  a  collection  of  medals,  many  of  which 
were  struck  in  commemoration  of  the  tragedy  of  the 
Binnenhof  at  The  Hague.  Nicolas  Maes,  Albert 
Cuyp,  and  Ary  Scheffer  are  the  three  most  famous 

[41] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Dutch  painters  that  Dortrecht  takes  pride  in  claiming 
as  her  own. 

Like  Leyden,  Dortrecht  experienced  her  period  of 
siege  in  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards,  although  of  not 
nearly  so  long  duration,  and  relief  was  effected  in 
much  the  same  manner.  Her  coat  of  arms,  consist- 
ing of  a  milkmaid  couchant  under  her  docile  bovine 
on  a  field  of — garlic,  we'll  say,  strikes  forever  the 
keynote  of  the  town's  relief. 

It  seems  that  a  milkmaid  in  the  employ  of  a  cer- 
tain wealthy  farmer  living  near  the  city,  having  gone 
into  the  fields  in  pursuit  of  her  daily  duties,  discov- 
ered the  Spaniards  hidden  behind  the  hedges.  Prob- 
ably out  of  pure  reticence,  bashfulness,  timidity, 
downright  scared-to-death-ness — what  you  will — she 
took  no  notice  of  the  ambushed  members  of  the  oppo- 
site sex,  but  went  as  gleefully  as  possible  at  her 
task,  and,  having  completed  it,  shouldered  her  yoke 
and  started  homeward.  It  cannot  be  held  against 
her  if  she  did  hasten  a  bit,  for  a  consultation  of  the 
records  will  prove  that  a  thunderstorm  was  gather- 
ing on  the  horizon. 

Arriving  at  the  farmhouse,  she  told  her  employer 
of  what  she  had  seen,  and  he  told  the  Burgomaster. 
The  Burgomaster  dispatched  a  spy,  who,  in  turn, 
discovered  that  the  milkmaid  related  no  myth  but  a 
cold  and  brittle  fact.  Soldiers  were  mustered  forth- 
with, and  the  dikes  were  cut,  allowing  the  merciless 
river  to  rush  in  and  catch  the  cruel  Castilians  un- 

[42] 


MIDDELBURG  TO   DORTRECHT 

awares  at  their  bloody  job.  It  is  alleged  that  Span- 
iards galore  were  drowned  in  the  raging  torrent,  and 
many  were  "  utterly  disappointed  in  their  design." 
At  all  events,  the  town  was  saved  and  the  States 
issued  orders  to  the  effect  that  the  farmer  be  re- 
imbursed for  the  loss  of  his  cattle,  real  estate,  and 
personal  property,  and  that  the  milkmaid's  likeness, 
together  with  that  of  her  faithful  and  nonplussible 
cow,  be  impressed  upon  the  new  coinage  of  the  city. 
"  And  she  had,  during  her  life,  and  hers  forever," 
according  to  a  medieval  historian,  "  an  allowance  of 
fifty  pounds  per  annum — a  noble  requital  for  a  vir- 
tuous service." 

The  first  glimpse  of  Dortrecht  that  you  get  as 
you  emerge  from  its  railway  station  will  put  you 
at  once  in  sympathy  with  it.  Prefaced  by  an  open, 
sunny,  brick  paved  space,  a  long  avenue  of  great 
trees  stretches  away  directly  in  front,  while  back  in 
their  shade  stands  the  peripatetic  horse  car,  as  if 
loath  to  attempt  the  transfer  of  passengers  in  the 
heat  of  the  day.  On  either  side  of  the  avenue  are 
beautiful  residences,  their  lawns  encircled,  not  by  the 
inappropriate  and  unsightly  fence,  but  with  a  narrow 
canal,  like  a  miniature  moat,  which  is  bridged  only 
at  the  front  and  the  rear  entrances  to  the  grounds. 
Everything  seems  so  peaceful,  so  conducive  to  com- 
fort and  leisure,  that  you  will  wish  you  had  the  time 
to  stay  in  Dortrecht  indefinitely  and  take  up  your 
abode  near  the  station — a  wish  that  even  in  your 

[43] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

wildest  flights  of  fancy  would  never  apply  to  Wil- 
mington, Delaware. 

Import  a  treacherous-looking  Italian  in  a  vivid 
pink  shirt  and  let  him  stir  up  the  aroma  by  poling 
his  mournful  gondola  up  and  down  a  certain  canal 
in  Dortrecht,  and  you  will  have  a  scene  in  Venice 
itself.  This  canal,  spanned  at  intervals  by  narrow 
bridges  and  bordered  with  three-story  houses  that 
hang  over  it  menacingly,  is  obviously  the  reason  why 
so  much  good  stout  canvas  and  so  many  tubes  of 
excellent  paint  have  been  used  up  by  Dutch  artists 
in  picturing  Dortrecht ;  for  a  little  of  Venice,  they 
must  have  thought,  is  better  than  none  at  all.  In 
view,  therefore,  of  the  length,  tediousness,  and  ex- 
pense of  a  trip  to  Venice  in  those  days,  many  of  the 
best  of  the  Dutch  painters  stayed  home  and  exercised 
their  talents  on  that  canal  in  Dortrecht.  All  of 
which  we  may  consider  a  boon  to  the  art  of  the 
Netherlands  as  well  as  to  the  picture-loving  public. 


[44l 


« 
•O  - 

§fl 

3* 

1* 
0« 


- 
Bi 


rt    O 


IV 

ROTTERDAM 

HE  who  says  the  romance  of  the  West  is  dead 
has  never  mingled  much  with  the  "  eight-section 
man "  down  in  the  southwestern  corner  of 
Texas.  He  who  avers  that  the  romance  of  steel  is 
played  out  and  defunct  has  never  straddled  an  I- 
beam  of  a  New  York  skyscraper  in  the  building  high 
above  the  vortexes  of  street  traffic,  above  the  flirt  of 
a  housemaid  hanging  out  clothes  on  a  lower  roof. 
He  who  claims  that  the  romance  of  shipping  has 
succumbed  under  the  pressure  of  modern  methods 
has  never  been  to  Rotterdam. 

They  have  a  pretty  park  in  that  San  Francisco 
of  Holland  that  fringes  the  bank  of  the  Maas.  On 
its  river  side,  near  the  entrance,  there  is  a  cafe,  where, 
in  the  evening,  the  less  romantic  Rotterdamer  basks 
and  imbibes  in  the  throes  of  a  virulent  orchestra. 
Farther  along  under  the  trees,  past  the  cafe  and  over- 
looking the  river,  numerous  benches  invite  the  lover  of 
the  sea  and  its  ships  to  sit  him  down  and  gaze  upon 
the  great  steel  hulls — and  wooden  ones,  too — that 
have  just  returned  from,  or  are  about  to  depart  for, 

[45] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

a  lengthy  and  uncertain  argument  with  Father  Nep- 
tune. 

The  view  from  here  is  several  times  more  magnetic 
than  it  is  from  the  neighborhood  of  the  cafe,  and  so 
here,  about  dusk,  come  those  wizened  warriors  upon 
whom  the  sea  has  cast  her  spell  once  and  for  all  time, 
to  sit  and  smoke  their  pipes  upside  down  and  dream, 
perhaps,  of  other  days,  of  other  ships,  of  other  seas. 
Three  or  four  may  occupy  a  single  bench,  but  it 
will  be  an  hour  before  a  word  is  passed  between  them. 
It  is  their  only  method  of  rejuvenation,  and  they  are 
loath  to  be  reminded  that  their  day  is  almost  done. 
A  certain  sort  of  reverence  pervades  the  place;  it 
would  seem  a  blasphemy  even  to  speak  aloud. 

On  one  of  these  wooden  benches  I  sat  one  evening 
at  sunset,  looking  out  across  to  the  docks  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river.  Busy  little  motor  boats 
were  sputtering  hither  and  thither  between  the  ship- 
ping, bent  upon  the  fulfillment  of  their  last  missions 
of  the  day.  A  few  hundred  yards  farther  up,  a 
couple  of  gloomy-looking  steam  ferries,  built  like 
Rhine  river  tugs,  transferred  their  deck  loads  of 
workmen  from  the  different  docks  and  machine  shops 
on  the  Feijenoord  to  the  Westplein  landing  in  Rotter- 
dam. From  out  in  the  stream  came  the  rattle  of 
chain  through  hawse  pipe,  as  a  Portuguese  tramp, 
having  entered  the  harbor  too  late  for  a  stranger 
to  dock,  was  preparing  an  anchorage  for  the  night. 
Close  by  lay  a  Norwegian  "  wind  jammer  " — so  close 

[46] 


ROTTERDAM 


that  the  two  of  them  might  easily  have  rubbed  figure- 
heads. A  big  cargo  boat,  bound  out,  preceded  by  a 
tiny  tug  to  herald  her  approach  and  followed  by  its 
twin  to  help  keep  her  straight  while  passing,  an  ex- 
act fit,  through  the  draw  to  one  of  the  many 
"havens,"  bayed  sonorously  for  the  less  conspicuous 
craft  to  get  out  of  her  way;  while  alongside  the 
Wilhelminakade  the  upper  decks  of  a  great  pas- 
senger-carrying leviathan,  already  electric  lighted, 
showed  through  the  rigging  of  the  intermediate  ves- 
sels. Out  of  respect  for  the  tide,  she  was  to  sail 
at  three  the  next  morning,  and  her  passengers,  when 
they  awakened,  would  find  themselves  well  down  the 
English  Channel  on  their  way  back  to  New  York 
after  a  summer  in  Europe. 

Presently,  two  young  women,  pushing  a  baby- 
coach  between  them,  came  strolling  along,  and  took 
up  positions  at  the  railing  just  in  front  of  me. 
Plainly  they  were  English,  and,  although  I  strained 
every  nerve  to  overhear  their  conversation  (which 
was  mean  of  me),  but  could  not,  I  divined  the  reason 
for  their  coming.  The  same  thing  occurs  a  dozen 
times  a  day  in  Liverpool,  in  'Frisco,  in  Sydney,  in 
Valparaiso,  in  every  port  of  any  consequence  in 
the  world.  One  was  the  wife,  and  the  other  perhaps 
the  sister,  or  her  sister,  or  maybe  a  close  friend. 
And  there  was  also  the  kiddy. 

Their  vigil  was  not  long  in  being  rewarded,  for 
during  the  three  weeks'  absence — three  months',  more 

[47] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

likely,  if  the  voyage  had  been  a  long  one — they  had 
perused  the  Lloyd  reports  daily  and  diligently,  and 
with  the  additional  aid  of  a  letter  or  two,  had  cal- 
culated the  time  of  arrival  to  a  nicety. 

Soon  a  great  black  hull  appeared  far  down  the 
river.  Darkness  was  gathering  fast,  but  they  knew 
the  lines  of  that  ship  as  they  knew  their  little  gardens 
at  home.  They  un-reticuled  their  handkerchiefs  and 
waved  and  giggled  and  giggled  and  waved.  For  full 
twenty  minutes  they  waved  and  giggled,  and  then 
they  held  the  kiddy  up.  The  ship  turned  off  to  enter 
a  dock  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  stream  and,  as 
she  turned  her  port  beam  to  us,  someone — it  would 
not  have  been  difficult  to  guess  whom — on  her  bridge 
held  up  a  navigator's  three-foot  telescope,  it  having 
been  doubtless  already  very  much  in  hand,  and  waved 
a  brief  but  significant,  "All's  well;  see  you  in  two 
hours" — or  waves  to  that  effect. 

Yes,  there  is  still  romance  in  shipping,  and  Rotter- 
dam, being  first,  last,  and  all  the  time  a  shipping 
town,  there  is  romance  in  Rotterdam. 

The  most  satisfactory  way  of  approaching  Rotter- 
dam is  by  water,  and  the  most  satisfactory  water 
way  is  from  Dortrecht.  By  this  route  you  obtain 
not  only  the  most  characteristic  views  of  Rotterdam 
and  the  bustle  and  business  about  her  water  front, 
but  you  get  also  the  glimpse  of  Dortrecht  that  Albert 
Cuyp  availed  himself  of  so  often,  for  the  water  front 
of  Dortrecht  doesn't  seem  to  have  changed  much, 

[48] 


ROTTERDAM 


according  to  Cuyp,  except  in  the  item  of  steam  for 
sail. 

It  is  a  pleasant  trip  of  an  hour  and  a  half 
duration  down  the  Maas,  past  numerous  shipyards 
that  are  capable  of  building  anything  from  a  canal 
boat  to  an  ocean-going  cargo  carrier;  past  great 
suction  dredges  assigned  to  the  perennial  duty  of 
keeping  the  river  conquered;  past  fishers  for  salmon, 
who,  by  treaty,  may  lower  their  nets  only  upon 
certain  days  in  order  to  give  the  German  fishers, 
higher  up  the  stream,  an  equal  opportunity  to  make 
a  living;  past  little  hamlets  whose  river  docks  and 
picturesque  dock  tenders  serve  in  lieu  of  railway  sta- 
tions and  the  more  prosaic  red-capped  and  frock- 
coated  station  masters. 

But  Rotterdam,  by  reason  of  her  trade,  does  not 
coincide  with  the  general  idea  of  Holland.  She  is 
more  or  less  cosmopolitan,  to  be  sure,  but  this  phase 
strikes  the  traveler  less  forcibly  than  her  ardent 
activity.  What  with  her  electric  cranes  and  machine- 
shops  and  sugar  refineries  and  tobacco  factories  and 
shipbuilding  yards  and  distilleries,  she  gives  one  the 
impression  of  a  thriving  German  seaport.  The  home 
port  claimed  by  the  greater  number  of  the  seven 
hundred  or  more  steam  and  sailing  vessels  that  make 
up  the  merchant  marine  of  Holland,  is  Rotterdam, 
and  through  this  port  passes  at  least  one-half  the 
country's  total  imports  by  sea  and  almost  as  much 
of  her  exports,  together  with  four-fifths  of  Holland's 

[49] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

trade  with  the  Rhine.  But  Baltimore,  in  the  matter 
of  population,  would  make  two  of  this,  the  most 
active,  the  most  important  seaport  of  the  Nether- 
lands. 

Still,  Rotterdam  is  essentially  Dutch,  in  fact  if 
not  in  first  appearances.  She  has  her  Groote  Kerk, 
the  Church  of  St.  Lawrence,  begun  in  1412;  she  has 
her  Town  Hall,  without  which,  it  seems,  no  town  in 
Holland  could  survive;  she  has  her  picture  gallery, 
although  a  mediocre  one,  in  the  Boymans  Museum ; 
she  has  her  old  market  and  her  new  church ;  and  she 
has  her  fish  market,  where  women  of  the  most  un- 
certain antiquity  sit  and  gossip  and  knit  and  sell 
sole  between  stitches.  Here  and  there,  too,  she  has 
her  old  windmill,  thatch  covered,  browbeaten  by  the 
weather,  massive  and  ponderous-looking,  that,  in  the 
very  midst  of  twentieth  century  hurry  and  scurry, 
waves  its  stiff  arms  as  if  depicting  in  pantomime  a 
scene  of  other  days.  And  then,  in  striking  contrast, 
right  at  the  very  edge  of  the  old  harbor,  stands  the 
tallest  building  in  the  Netherlands.  It  must  be  as 
sky-scraping  as  eight  or  ten  stories,  and  high  up 
under  its  eaves  it  displays  the  advertisement  of  an 
American  breakfast  food.  Its  builders  probably 
thought  that  a  photographer  would  be  the  only  mor- 
tal who  could  be  induced  to  rent  the  top  story,  so 
they  made  the  building's  sloping  roof  into  one  glori- 
ous skylight,  under  which  rural  Holland  might  sit 
and  have  its  picture  taken  for  the  family  album.. 

[50] 


en   0) 
<u    - 

(A    0) 


• 


•CIS 

s-s 


a, 

(0 

a 


ROTTERDAM 


It  was  while  waiting  for  a  car  at  the  beginning  of 
The  Oosterkade  and  just  across  the  old  harbor  from 
this  Metropolitan  Tower  of  Rotterdam  that  the  more 
nearly  general  of  all  Dutch  customs  was  brought 
home  to  me. 

The  car  had  approached  its  terminus  and  I  was 
about  to  mount,  when  the  conductor,  more  forcibly 
than  politely,  requested  that  I  discontinue  the  attempt 
and  take  up  my  position  where  I  belonged,  with  the 
rest  of  the  crowd,  in  the  vicinity  of  a  certain  lamp- 
post a  few  steps  beyond — the  Dutch  being  most  pre- 
cise and  systematic.  I  ambled  thither  and  was 
standing  in  the  more  or  less  protecting  umbrage  of 
the  lamp-post,  with  sarcastic  but  not  envious  mien, 
watching  the  traction  company  partake  of  a  large 
slab  of  black  bread  and  cheese  (until  the  disappear- 
ance of  which  the  car  refused  to  continue)  when  I 
was  accosted  by  a  small  street  urchin  of  about  the 
tender  age  of  seven,  who  was  armed  with  an  immense 
cigar.  I  happened  to  be  smoking  at  the  time,  and 
this  was  what  brought  the  boy  in  my  direction.  He 
wanted  a  light  and  wasted  no  words  in  asking  for 
it.  Being  somewhat  shocked  that  a  youth  of  such 
tender  years  should  be  so  faithful  a  slave  to  the 
vile,  pernicious  weed,  I  submitted  to  his  plea  under 
mental  protest.  But  he  seemed  not  in  the  least  em- 
barrassed, for  he  saluted  and  marched  off,  appar- 
ently enjoying  the  thing  as  if  it  had  been  his  fifth 
since  breakfast. 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Before  I  was  through  with  Holland,  however,  I 
came  to  know  that  every  able-bodied  male  in  the 
kingdom  acquires  the  cigar  habit  as  early  in  life 
as  his  physical  condition  permits,  and  I  have  yet 
to  see  the  adult  Dutchman  who  doesn't  use  tobacco 
in  some  form.  Holland,  by  virtue  of  her  colonial 
holdings  in  Sumatra  and  the  Straits  Settlements, 
is  the  paradise  of  smokers,  and  tobacco  stores  in 
every  town,  be  it  large  or  small,  are  as  thick  as 
saloons  in  McKeesport,  Pennsylvania.  If  you  pay 
more  than  the  equal  value  of  two  American  cents 
for  a  cigar  in  Holland  you  are  branded  as  a  for- 
eigner or  an  extravagant  roue.  Of  course  foreigners 
who  unfurl  their  native  colors  full  in  the  face  of  the 
tobacconist  are  expected  to  and  do  pay  more,  but 
a  cigar  equal  in  flavor  and  composition  to  the  best 
of  our  ten  cent  brands  can  be  bought  in  Holland 
for  five  Dutch  cents,  and  often  less,  if  you  go  about 
it  in  the  proper  manner.  The  age  at  which  boys 
learn  to  smoke  in  Holland  has  never  been  correctly 
computed,  but  in  the  country  I  have  seen  lads  of 
five  or  six  serenely  eliminating  all  possible  chance 
of  being  rewarded  the  oft-referred-to  gold  watch  at 
the  age  of  twenty-one,  and  handling  their  cigars  with 
as  much  real  enjoyment  as  their  paternal  grand- 
parent. 

Perhaps  at  this  point  it  might  be  opportune  to 
tell  the  story  of  old  Herr  van  Klaes  of  this  same 
town  of  Rotterdam,  who  consumed  a  five-ounce  pack- 

[52] 


ROTTERDAM 


age  of  tobacco  daily  and  died  in  action  at  the  age 
of  ninety-eight  with  his  pipe  actually  in  his  mouth. 
In  his  will  he  expressed  the  wish  that  every  smoker 
in  the  kingdom  be  invited  to  his  funeral  "by  letter, 
circular,  and  advertisement,"  and  all  who  took  ad- 
vantage of  the  invitation  should  be  presented  with 
ten  pounds  of  tobacco  and  two  pipes,  the  name  of 
van  Klaes,  his  crest,  and  the  date  of  his  demise  to 
be  engraved  upon  the  latter.  Every  poor  man  in 
the  neighborhood  who  accompanied  the  bier  was  to 
receive  a  large  package  of  smoking  mixture  on  each 
anniversary  of  the  death  of  his  champion.  The  will 
stipulated  further  that  all  who  wished  to  partake 
of  its  benefits  must  smoke  "without  interruption 
during  the  entire  ceremony."  The  body  was  to  be 
placed  in  a  coffin  lined  with  the  wood  of  his  old 
cigar  boxes,  and  at  the  foot  should  be  placed  a 
package  of  French  tobacco  and  one  of  the  Dutch 
blend.  At  his  side  in  the  coffin  was  to  be  laid  his 
favorite  pipe  and  a  box  of  matches,  "  For,"  he  said, 
"  one  never  knows  what  may  happen."  And  all  per- 
sons in  the  funeral  procession  were  requested  to 
sprinkle  the  ashes  of  their  pipes  upon  the  bier  as 
they  passed  it  while  taking  their  departure  from 
the  grounds. 

It  is  said  the  funeral  of  Herr  van  Klaes  at  least 
enjoyed  the  distinction  of  being  the  largest  seen  in 
Rotterdam  in  many  a  day.  It  must  have  been  a 
busy  time  for  the  aanspreker.  Indeed,  it  must  have 

[53] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

taken  the  concentrated  efforts  of  all  the  aansprekers 
in  Holland  to  help  advertise  the  funeral.  But  here  a 
few  lines  as  to  the  solution  of  the  word  "  aanspreker." 

The  Dutch  aanspreker  is  he  of  the  mourning  robes 
whose  duty  it  is  to  go  about  from  house  to  house, 
wherever  even  the  flimsiest  ties,  whether  social  or* 
business,  exist,  and  announce  the  saddening  news  of 
a  death;  or  it  is  he  of  the  more  gaudy  apparel  who 
gives  the  gladsome  tidings  of  a  birth  in  the  family — 
and  the  degree  of  his  mournfulness  or  jocundity  in 
appearance  bespeaks  the  mournfulness  or  jocundity 
of  his  employers. 

In  earlier  times  the  services  of  the  aanspreker  were 
augmented  by  those  of  the  huilebalk,  a  kind  of  a 
professional  mourner,  who,  in  the  case  of  a  death, 
accompanied  the  aanspreker  on  his  rounds  and  wept 
more  or  less  fluently  after  the  completion  of  each 
doleful  message.  His  coat  was  long-tailed  and  his 
hat  wide-brimmed  and  the  extent  of  his  sorrow  in 
each  case  depended  wholly  upon  the  receipts  for  his 
services;  the  more  money,  the  more  tears.  Both 
must  have  been  depressing  professions  at  best,  but 
this  manner  of  announcing  the  news  constituted  an 
essential  factor  of  every  funeral.  The  aanspreker 
is  often  seen  to-day,  but  the  huilebalk  has  wept  him- 
self out  of  existence,  probably  on  account  of  a 
simple  dearth  of  apprentices. 

The  patron  saint,  almost,  of  Rotterdam  is 
Gherardt  Gherardts,  better  known  by_  the  more  poetic 

[54] 


ROTTERDAM 


name  of  Erasmus  Desiderius — meaning  "  beloved  and 
long  desired" — scholar,  critic,  philosopher,  intellec- 
tual fly-by-night,  born  in  Rotterdam  in  1466.  A 
bronze  statue  of  him  by  Hendrik  de  Keyser  decorates 
the  Groote  Markt  of  his  birthplace.  Known  best  by 
his  immortal  satire,  "The  Praise  of  Folly,"  and  for 
his  being,  in  1516,  the  first  to  be  so  bold  .as  to  amend 
the  text  of  the  Greek  New  Testament,  Erasmus  was 
undoubtedly  the  "  intellectual  dictator  of  his  age." 
He  entered  the  order  of  the  Brethren  of  the  Common 
Life,  first  at  'S  Hertogenbosch  and  later  at  Delft, 
and  the  year  America  was  discovered  saw  him  acting 
as  secretary  to  the  Bishop  of  Cambrai.  He  studied 
in  Paris,  in  Orleans,  in  Oxford,  in  Rome,  and  then 
returned  to  England  to  accept  a  professorship  at  the 
University  of  Cambridge.  He  died  in  Basle  in  1536. 
Rotterdam  cannot  be  said  to  be  noted  for  its 
cleanliness ;  in  fact,  it  crowds  Amsterdam  for  first 
place  as  the  dirtiest  city  in  Holland.  But  still  Rot- 
terdam as  well  as  Amsterdam  has  its  beauty  spots. 
Some  of  the  residence  streets  in  the  newer  part  of 
the  city  are  veritable  gardens  in  themselves.  The 
Parklaan,  with  the  Park  at  one  end  and  the  Groote- 
veerhaven,  the  latter  crowded  with  private  motor 
boats  and  yachts  that  gleam  in  their  innocence  of 
dirt,  at  the  other,  is  lined  with  beautiful  homes.  It 
and  the  Mauritsweg  and  the  Eendragtsweg  are 
tree  studded  and  kept  swept  and  sprinkled  quite  as 
thoroughly  and  as  frequently  as  any  of  the  streets 

[55] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

in  The  Hague.  The  canal  that  borders  these  two 
latter  streets  is  banked  with  lawns  and  crossed  here 
and  there  by  artistic  rustic  bridges,  for  in  Rotter- 
dam, as  in  the  German  municipalities,  they  pay  more 
attention  to  the  details  of  city  beautification  than 
do  we  in  America.  The  community  at  large  seems  to 
take  a  personal  interest  in  such  affairs.  Can  you 
imagine  the  linemen  for  a  telegraph  company  or 
an  electric  light  corporation  coming  along  the  streets 
of  a  German  city,  exercising  the  right  of  eminent 
domain  by  ripping  up  the  pavements  of  the  property 
holders  and  digging  holes  big  enough  to  bury  a  horse, 
in  which  to  plant  the  unsightly  wooden  poles  that 
seem  to  them,  on  account  of  their  comparative  cheap- 
ness, the  only  known  method  of  carrying  wires?  The 
Germans  wouldn't  stand  it  for  a  minute.  They  use 
steel  wire  carriers  over  there — a  more  businesslike 
looking  trestle  work  in  the  shape  of  an  elongated 
truncated  pyramid,  set  slightly  above  the  ground  on 
a  concrete  foundation.  And  I  noticed  that  these 
"  trestle "  telegraph  poles  in  Rotterdam,  when  the 
conditions  permitted,  were  planted  in  the  center  of 
a  little  bed  of  geraniums,  while  some  even  had  vines 
climbing  upon  them. 

The  Dutch,  too,  are  sticklers  for  coziness  and 
they  try  to  make  their  living  quarters  as  habitable 
as  possible.  In  the  congested  harbors  of  Rotterdam, 
where,  sometimes,  you  can  step  from  one  side  of 
the  stream  to  the  other  upon  the  flat  decks  of  the 

[56] 


ROTTERDAM 


swarms  of  canal  boats,  it  is  doubtful  if  you  will  see 
an  uncurtained  cabin  window,  and  pots  of  flowers 
will  be  displayed  in  most  of  them.  The  train  shed 
of  the  Beurs  railway  station  in  the  heart  of  the 
city  has  an  outside  cornice  of  flower  boxes  filled  with 
pink  geraniums.  But  then,  you  will  remember  about 
the  Dutch  locomotives — which  accounts  for  much. 

As  you  enter  Rotterdam  or  Amsterdam  on  the 
railway  you  pass  row  after  row  of  what  we  please 
to  call  tenement  houses.  Even  these  are  not  devoid 
of  a  cozy,  homelike  aspect  that  our  tenements  and 
even  reasonably  inexpensive  apartment  houses  know 
not.  Each  apartment  can  boast  of  a  balcony  in 
the  rear  that  is  partitioned  off  from  its  neighbors. 
In  many  cases  these  balconies  are  shaded  with  awn- 
nings  from  the  glare  of  the  sun  and  decorated  with 
flowerpots  in  profusion.  This  serves  the  city 
dweller  in  lieu  of  a  garden,  and  here  he  eats  his 
meals  and  spends  his  evenings  after  work.  In  the 
daytime  the  family  use  the  balcony  as  an  impro- 
vised sewing  room.  Many  of  the  back  yards  of  the 
smaller  houses  consist  of  a  tree  lined  canal  over 
which  the  family  looks  from  the  seclusion  of  a  flower 
girdled,  awning  covered  veranda. 

The  Dutch  not  only  keep  themselves  cozy  but 
they  take  a  tender  sort  of  interest  in  the  well-being 
of  their  birds  and  dumb  animals.  True,  they  train 
their  dogs  to  help  their  masters  pull  the  milk  carts 
or  vegetable  wagons,  but  the  dogs  look  husky  and 

[57] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

well  fed  and  seem  to  take  pride  in  their  accomplish- 
ment. A  spare-ribbed  stray  canine  prowling  around 
the  neighborhood  is  an  unknown  quantity  in  Holland. 

In  the  center  of  some  of  Rotterdam's  canals  which 
are  barred  to  traffic  and  made,  instead,  to  assist 
in  the  beautification  of  the  city,  you  will  see  little 
wicker  duck  nests,  like  empty  market  baskets  turned 
on  their  sides.  They  rest  on  piles  driven  into 
the  bottom  of  the  canal,  and  the  entrance  to  each 
is  approached  from  the  water  by  means  of  a  wooden 
incline  about  the  size  of  a  shingle.  This  is  not  only 
a  convenience  for  the  ducks  but  features  as  an  artistic 
break  in  the  monotony,  I  might  say,  of  the  canal. 

And  these  are  but  a  few  of  the  reasons  why  a  visit 
to  Rotterdam,  although  barren  of  the  types  and 
characteristics  that  Holland  is  noted  for,  is  well 
worth  the  trouble;  if  only  to  study  the  city  and  its 
inhabitants  from  a  psychological  point  of  view  it  is 
well  worth  while. 


[58] 


V 

DELFT  AND   HER   TRAGEDY 

'Tt  TINETEEN  minutes  in  the  train  from  Rotter- 
±\  dam,  and  you  are  in  Delft — such  are  the  dis- 
tances between  towns  in  South  Holland. 

The  population  of  Delft  amounts,  numerically,  to 
some  32,000,  but  this  is  an  item  that  is  farthest  from 
your  thoughts.  It  is  one  of  the  quietest,  quaintest 
cities  in  the  Netherlands.  Up  and  down  its  narrow, 
lime  shaded  canals  the  boatmen  of  Delft  pole  their 
barges  laboriously,  yet  noiselessly,  walking  along  the 
decks  from  stem  to  stern  against  their  padded  means 
of  propulsion  and  literally  pushing  their  craft  out 
from  under  them.  In  the  spring  these  watery  high- 
ways are  covered  with  a  fragrant  layer  of  fallen 
blossoms ;  in  the  fall,  with  leaves  of  variegated  colors. 
The  houses  that  stand  behind  the  trees  have  been 
well  built  and  are  well  preserved,  adding  to  the  place 
an  impression  of  comfortable  solidity. 

My  first  visit  to  Holland  brought  me  to  Delft  from 
"  The  Hook  "  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the  morning, 
when  the  housemaids  were  about  to  commence  the 
first  concentrated  assault  of  the  day  upon  their 
pavements,  doorsteps,  front  doors,  and  the  brass- 

[59] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

work  pertaining  thereto  in  the  shape  of  knobs  and 
knockers.  "  Scrub "  seemed  to  be  the  housemaids' 
slogan,  and  they  were  certainly  living  up  to  it. 
Pail  after  pail  of  water  was  hoisted  from  the  canals 
and  splashed  over  everything  in  reach,  until  it  flowed 
across  the  streets  and  pavements,  and  fell  back 
whence  it  came  originally.  If  I  had  appeared  upon 
the  scene  a  little  later  I  might  have  concluded  that 
a  cloud-burst  had  struck  the  town.  And  all  this 
brackish  water,  that,  in  the  canals,  comes  within 
an  ace  of  being  absolutely  stagnant,  being  poured 
so  recklessly  over  the  town,  gave  to  it  a  kind  of 
antique  odor,  anything  but  pleasant  to  inhale.  It 
gave  every  evidence  that  that  same  water  had  been 
hoisted,  put  to  its  task,  and  allowed  to  drip  back 
into  the  canals  again  since  medieval  times. 

This  was  on  a  week  day.  A  subsequent  visit  to 
Delft  took  me  there  on  Sunday. 

Now,  for  some  reason,  psychological  or  otherwise, 
the  housemaids  of  Delft  don't  seem  to  take  the  same 
interest  in  the  scrupulousness  of  their  doorsteps  on 
a  Sunday  that  they  do  on  a  week  day.  Sunday  is 
the  day  that  everybody  in  Delft  dons  his  or  her 
best  bib  and  tucker  and  goes  to  church,  or  leans 
over  the  railings  of  the  canal  bridges  and  chats  with 
a  friend,  or  walks  about  the  town  under  the  shade 
of  its  trees,  contemplating,  perhaps,  upon  the  ex- 
igencies of  life.  And  a  housemaid  is  but  human. 

To  come  upon  Delft,  therefore,  during  this  weekly 
[60] 


o 

<u 

13 

O 


DELFT   AND    HER   TRAGEDY 

interruption  in  the  perennial  polishing  of  the  town, 
whatever  the  reason  for  it,  offers  the  traveler  a 
different  and  vastly  more  agreeable  impression.  He 
will  see  Delft  and  her  people  at  their  best,  the  latter 
more  congenially  courteous,  the  former  more  serenely 
stolid.  Instead  of  the  boatmen  being  continually 
in  the  act  of  disturbing  the  bottoms  of  the  canals 
with  their  poles,  so  that  the  housemaids  can  skim 
off  the  most  graveolent  of  it  with  which  to  scour 
and  rinse  their  pavements,  they  assume  for  the  day 
the  role  of  flower  sellers.  Boats  bearing  fragrant 
burdens  of  potted  plants  of  every  variety,  and  cut 
flowers  as  well,  as  if  to  try  to  make  amends  for  the 
mal-odor  of  the  previous  week,  will  be  drawn  as  close 
to  the  sidewalks  as  the  banks  of  the  canals  permit, 
in  order  to  tempt  the  frailty  of  the  Delft  housewife — 
if  an  inherent  love  of  flowers  may  be  termed  as  such 
— on  her  way  home  from  church. 

Delft  is  old  and  she  shows  symptoms  of  the  fact 
in  spots.  Down  at  the  southern  end  of  the  city,  near 
the  Rotterdam  gate,  stands  a  venerable  building, 
once  one  of  the  numerous  warehouses  scattered  over 
the  country  belonging  to  the  Dutch  East  India  Com- 
pany— that  most  famous  and  wealthiest  of  all  Dutch 
trading  concerns,  founded  in  1602,  when  the  power 
and  wealth  of  the  Republic  had  attained  their  high- 
water  marks  under  the  stadtholdership  of  Maurice, 
one  of  the  sons  of  the  ill-fated  Prince  William  of 
Orange.  The  place  has  long  since  been  put  to  use 

[61] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

as  a  military  storehouse.  Directly  opposite  is  the 
ominous-looking  city  arsenal,  bearing  above  its 
arched  entrance  a  massive  copy  of  the  arms  of  the 
old  Dutch  Republic,  carved  in  stone.  Another  of 
the  old  buildings  is  the  Gemeelandshuis  van  Delftland, 
showing  in  sandstone  a  rich  Gothic  fa9ade  of  the  be- 
ginning of  the  sixteenth  century. 

With  us,  Delft's  principal  claim  to  notoriety  lies 
in  the  manufacture  of  its  faience,  commonly  called 
"  Delft  ware,"  in  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  cen- 
turies. Its  composition  and  design  at  first  copied 
from  the  Chinese  and  Japanese  porcelain,  this  faience 
became  celebrated  throughout  the  world.  Dutch  de- 
signs were  soon  substituted  for  the  Oriental,  and  the 
industry  prospered  proportionately.  Later  it  lapsed 
into  decay  and  the  true  process  has  been  revived  in 
Delft  only  within  comparatively  recent  years.  A 
large  plant  for  its  manufacture  now  operates  on  the 
Oosteinde,  not  far  from  the  New  Church. 

But  in  the  heart  of  the  Hollander,  Delft  will  ever 
be  revered  as  the  scene  of  the  tragedy  that  cut  short 
the  life  and  terminated  the  praiseworthy  deeds  of 
that  eminent  founder  of  Dutch  liberty,  "  William  the 
Silent,"  Prince  of  Orange,  the  George  Washington 
of  the  Netherlands. 

Born  of  noble  German  parentage  at  Dillenburg  in 
the  Duchy  of  Nassau  in  1533,  William,  curiously 
enough,  became  the  favorite  of  Philip  II  of  Spain, 
who  appointed  him,  in  1559,  when  but  twenty-six 

[62] 


DELFT   AND   HER   TRAGEDY 

years  of  age,  stadtholder  or  governor  of  the  provinces 
of  Zeeland,  Holland,  Friesland,  and  Utrecht.  Two 
years  later  William  found  himself  in  bad  odor  with 
Granvella,  the  Bishop  of  Arras,  whom  Philip  had 
appointed  as  counselor  to  his  half-sister,  Margaret 
of  Parma,  the  then  regent  of  the  Netherlands.  Wil- 
liam finally  effected  the  enforced  relinquishment  of 
this  post  by  the  Bishop  in  1564. 

The  subsequent  unrest  in  the  Netherlands,  pro- 
voked mainly  by  the  atrocities  of  Spanish  soldiery, 
led  to  the  sanguinary  assignment  of  Ferdinando  Al- 
varez de  Toledo,  Duke  of  Alva,  to  command  an 
army  of  10,000  picked  men,  mustered  from  Lom- 
bardy,  Sardinia,  Sicily,  and  Naples,  to  quell  the 
possible  insurrection.  This  move  was  bitterly  re- 
sented, not  only  by  her  subjects,  but  was  opposed, 
although  without  success,  by  Margaret  of  Parma 
herself;  for  the  name  of  Alva  was  as  odious  to  her 
as  it  was  to  them. 

A  man  of  brilliant  military  attainments  and  the 
most  experienced  general  in  Europe  at  the  time,  but 
bubbling  over  with  avarice  and  revengefulness,  cruel 
and  overbearing,  Alva  accepted  the  assignment  with 
alacrity.  "  I  have  tamed  people  of  iron  in  my  day," 
he  was  reported  to  have  said  contemptuously ;  "  shall 
I  not  easily  crush  these  men  of  butter?" 

When  Alva,  with  his  army,  entered  the  Nether- 
lands and  took  it  upon  himself,  after  much  intrigue 
anl  conniving,  to  supersede  the  half-sister  of  his 

[63] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

sovereign  as  governor  of  the  province,  the  Prince  of 
Orange  retired  to  Dillenburg.  Continued  oppressions 
by  the  Spaniards  later  called  him  to  arms  with  the 
French  Huguenots  as  allies,  and  he  set  out  betimes 
upon  an  unsuccessful  campaign  to  liberate  the  south- 
ern provinces  from  their  yoke  of  Spanish  tyranny. 
Since  that  time  he  was  ever  an  active  revolution- 
ist. In  1571  he  championed  the  "Water  Beggars,'* 
by  which  name  those  insurgents  who  assisted  their 
compatriots  by  sea  were  known,  and  one  year  later, 
having  been  invited  by  the  provinces  of  Zeeland  and 
Holland  to  command  their  troops  against  the  Span- 
iards?  he  captured  Middelburg,  and  later  came  to  the 
successful  rescue  of  the  besieged  town  of  Leyden. 
Soon  after  the  formation  of  the  famous  defensive 
league  known  as  the  "  Utrecht  Union,"  William  was 
condemned  to  exile  by  Philip.  The  fact  that  the 
States-General  defied  the  sovereign's  authority  in  this 
matter  was  the  percussion  cap  that  exploded  the 
general  uprising  and  the  throwing  off  of  Dutch  alle- 
giance to  Spain  in  1581. 

"Uneasy  lies  the  head  that  wears" — the  helmet 
of  revolt,  and  from  the  time  of  his  first  attempt  to 
achieve  the  success  of  his  ambitious  project,  the 
life  of  no  medieval  ruler  was  ever  more  in  jeopardy 
than  was  that  of  William  of  Orange.  Within  a 
period  of  two  years  five  separate  and  distinct  at- 
tempts to  take  his  life  had  been  perpetrated,  and  a 
sixth,  albeit  an  abhorrently  successful  one,  was  about 

[64] 


DELFT   AND   HER   TRAGEDY 

to  follow — all  of  which  were  undoubtedly  at  the  ini- 
tial instigation  of  the  Duke  of  Alva. 

Just  across  the  canal  from  the  Old  Church  at 
Delft  still  stands  the  house  of  William  the  Silent, 
now  known  as  the  Prinsenhof,  where  the  tragedy  took 
place.  It  is  a  low,  two- story  building  with  a  red- 
tiled  roof,  formerly  a  cloister,  but  fitted  up  in  1575 
as  the  residence  of  the  Princes  of  Orange.  Here 
came  William,  in  the  summer  of  1584,  to  join  his 
fourth  wife,  Louisa  de  Coligny,  at  the  christening  of 
their  son,  born  in  Delft  the  previous  winter,  who 
later  became  the  celebrated  governor,  Frederic  Wil- 
liam. The  door  marked  Gymnasium  Publicum, 
opposite  the  tower  of  the  church,  leads  through  a 
courtyard  to  the  staircase  where  the  murder  was 
committed;  and  in  a  dark  corner  of  the  wall  at  the 
foot  of  the  steps  the  custodian  will  show  you  a  hole 
made  by  one  of  the  bullets  that  killed  the  Prince. 
The  dining-room  beyond,  from  which  William  had 
come  to  his  death,  is  now  a  museum  containing 
reminiscences  of  him. 

The  Czolgosz  of  the  occasion,  the  perpetrator  of 
the  dastardly  act,  was  Bathazar  Gerard,  alias  Francis 
Guion,  the  self-alleged  son  of  a  martyred  Calvinist, 
a  religious  fanatic  who  had  long  cherished  an  insane 
desire  to  murder  Orange. 

"  The  organization  of  Bathazar  Gerard,"  says 
Motley,  "would  furnish  a  subject  for  profound 
study,  both  for  the  physiologist  and  the  metaphysi- 

[65] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

clan.  Neither  wholly  a  fanatic  nor  entirely  a  ruffian, 
he  combined  the  most  dangerous  elements  of  both 
characters.  In  his  puny  body  and  mean  exterior 
were  inclosed  considerable  mental  powers  and  accom- 
plishments, a  daring  ambition,  and  a  courage  almost 
superhuman.  Yet  those  qualities  led  him  only  to 
form  upon  the  threshold  of  life  a  deliberate  determina- 
tion to  achieve  greatness  by  the  assassin's  trade." 

After  long  and  exasperating  delays,  Gerard  had 
finally  succeeded,  on  account  of  his  ambitions,  in 
nursing  himself  into  the  good  graces  of  Alexander 
of  Parma,  the  Spanish  governor  of  the  Netherlands 
at  that  time.  On  the  other  hand,  "  Parma  had  long 
been  looking  for  a  good  man  to  murder  Orange, 
feeling — as  Philip,  Granvelle,  and  all  former  gov- 
ernors of  the  Netherlands  had  felt — that  this  was 
the  only  means  of  saving  the  royal  authority  in  any 
part  of  the  provinces.  Many  unsatisfactory  assas- 
sins had  presented  themselves  from  time  to  time,  and 
Alexander  had  paid  money  in  hand  to  various  indi- 
viduals— Italians,  Spaniards,  Lorrainers,  Scotchmen, 
Englishmen,  who  had  generally  spent  the  sums  re- 
ceived without  attempting  the  job.  Others  were  sup- 
posed to  be  still  engaged  in  the  enterprise,  and  at 
that  moment  there  were  four  persons — each  unknown 
to  the  others,  and  of  different  nations — in  the  city 
of  Delft,  seeking  to  compass  the  death  of  William 
the  Silent." 

Upon  the  death,  at  this  time,  of  the  French  Duke 
[66] 


DELFT   AND    HER    TRAGEDY 

of  Anjou,  Gerard  was  recommended  to  Parma  by 
various  parties  as  a  capable  messenger  "to  carry 
this  important  intelligence  to  the  Prince  of  Orange." 
Concerning  the  outcome  of  this  mission,  I  can  do 
no  better  than  to  quote  John  Lothrop  Motley  from 
his  "The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic,"  as  I  have 
done  elsewhere  in  this  chapter: 

"  The  dispatches  having  been  intrusted  to  him " 
(Gerard),  "he  traveled  post-haste  to  Delft,  and  to 
his  astonishment  the  letters  had  hardly  been  de- 
livered before  he  was  summoned  in  person  to  the 
chamber  of  the  Prince.  Here  was  an  opportunity 
such  as  he  had  never  dared  to  hope  for.  The  arch- 
enemy to  the  Church  and  to  the  human  race"  (that 
is,  the  Prince,  so  called),  "whose  death  would  con- 
fer upon  his  destroyer  wealth  and  nobility  in  this 
world,  besides  a  crown  of  glory  in  the  next,  lay 
unarmed,  alone,  in  bed,  before  the  man  who  had 
thirsted  seven  long  years  for  his  blood. 

"  Bathazar  could  scarcely  control  his  emotions 
sufficiently  to  answer  the  questions  which  the  Prince 
addressed  to  him  concerning  the  death  of  Anjou; 
but  Orange,  deeply  engaged  with  the  dispatches,  and 
with  the  reflections  which  their  deeply  important  con- 
tents suggested,  did  not  observe  the  countenance  of 
the  humble  Calvinist  exile,  who  had  been  recently 
recommended  to  his  patronage  by  Villers.  Gerard 
had,  moreover,  made  no  preparation  for  an  interview 
so  entirely  unexpected,  had  come  unarmed,  and  had 

[67] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

formed  no  plan  for  escape.  He  was  obliged  to 
forego  his  prey  when  most  within  his  reach,  and 
after  communicating  all  the  information  which  the 
Prince  required,  he  was  dismissed  from  the  chamber. 

"  It  was  Sunday  morning,  and  the  bells  were  tolling 
for  church.  Upon  leaving  the  house  he  loitered  about 
the  courtyard,  furtively  examining  the  premises,  so 
that  a  sergeant  of  halberdiers  asked  him  why  he 
was  waiting  there.  Bathazar  meekly  replied  that  he 
was  desirous  of  attending  divine  worship  in  the  church 
opposite,  but  added,  pointing  to  his  shabby  and 
travel-stained  attire?  that,  without  at  least  a  pair 
of  new  shoes  and  stockings,  he  was  unfit  to  join 
the  congregation.  Insignificant  as  ever,  the  small, 
pious,  dusty  stranger  excited  no  suspicion  in  the  mind 
of  the  good-natured  sergeant.  He  forthwith  spoke 
of  the  wants  of  Gerard  to  an  officer,  by  whom  they 
were  communicated  to  Orange  himself,  and  the  Prince 
instantly  ordered  a  sum  of  money  to  be  given  him. 
Thus  Bathazar  obtained  from  William's  charity  what 
Parma's  thrift  had  denied — a  fund  for  carrying  out 
his  purpose! 

"  Next  morning,  with  the  money  thus  procured,  he 
purchased  a  pair  of  pistols  or  small  carabines  from 
a  soldier,  chaffering  long  about  the  price  because 
the  vender  could  not  supply  a  particular  kind  of 
chopped  bullets  or  slugs  which  he  desired.  Before 
the  sunset  of  the  following  day  that  soldier  had 
stabbed  himself  to  the  heart,  and  died  despairing, 

[68] 


DELFT   AND    HER   TRAGEDY 

on  hearing  for  what  purpose   the  pistols  had  been 
bought. 

"On  Tuesday,  the  10th  of  July,  1584,  at  about 
half-past  twelve,  the  Prince,  with  his  wife  on  his 
arm,  and  followed  by  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  of 
his  family,  was  going  to  the  dining-room.  William 
the  Silent  was  dressed  upon  that  day,  according  to 
his  usual  custom,  in  very  plain  fashion.  He  wore 
a  wide-leaved,  loosely-shaped  hat  of  dark  felt,  with 
a  silken  cord  round  the  crown — such  as  had  been 
worn  by  the  Beggars  in  the  early  days  of  the  revolt. 
A  high  ruff  encircled  his  neck,  from  which  also  de- 
pended one  of  the  Beggars'  medals,  with  the  motto, 
'  Fideles  au  roy  jusqu'  a  la  besace,'  while  a  loose 
surcoat  of  gray  frieze  cloth,  over  a  tawny  leather 
doublet,  with  wide,  slashed  underclothes,  completed  his 
costume.  Gerard  presented  himself  at  the  doorway, 
and  demanded  a  passport.  The  Princess,  struck  with 
the  pale  and  agitated  countenance  of  the  man, 
anxiously  questioned  her  husband  concerning  the 
stranger.  The  Prince  carelessly  observed  that  'it 
was  merely  a  person  who  came  for  a  passport,' 
ordering,  at  the  same  time,  a  secretary  forthwith  to 
prepare  one.  The  Princess,  still  not  relieved,  ob- 
served in  an  undertone  that  '  she  had  never  seen  so 
villainous  a  countenance.'  Orange,  however,  not  at 
all  impressed  with  the  appearance  of  Gerard,  con- 
ducted himself  at  table  with  his  usual  cheerfulness, 
conversing  much  with  the  burgomaster  of  Leeuwarden, 

[69] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

the  only  guest  present  at  the  family  dinner,  concern- 
ing the  political  and  religious  aspects  of  Friesland. 
At  two  o'clock  the  company  rose  from  table.  The 
Prince  led  the  way,  intending  to  pass  to  his  private 
apartments  above.  The  dining-room,  which  was  on 
the  ground  floor,  opened  into  a  little  square  vestibule, 
which  communicated,  through  an  arched  passageway, 
with  the  main  entrance  into  the  courtyard.  This 
vestibule  was  also  directly  at  the  foot  of  the  wooden 
staircase  leading  to  the  next  floor,  and  was  scarcely 
six  feet  in  width.  Upon  its  left  side,  as  one  ap- 
proached the  stairway,  was  an  obscure  arch,  sunk 
deep  in  the  wall,  and  completely  in  the  shadow  of 
the  door.  Behind  this  arch  a  portal  opened  to  the 
narrow  lane  at  the  side  of  the  house.  The  stairs 
themselves  were  completely  lighted  by  a  large  window 
half-way  up  the  flight.  The  Prince  came  from  the 
dining-room,  and  began  leisurely  to  ascend.  He  had 
only  reached  the  second  stair,  when  a  man  emerged 
from  the  sunken  arch,  and,  standing  within  a  foot 
or  two  of  him,  discharged  a  pistol  full  at  his  heart. 
Three  balls  entered  his  body,  one  of  which,  passing 
quite  through  him,  struck  with  violence  against  the 
wall  beyond.  The  Prince  is  said  to  have  exclaimed  in 
French,  as  he  felt  the  wound,  '  O  my  God,  have  mercy 
upon  my  soul !  O  my  God,  have  mercy  upon  this  poor 
people ! ' 

"  These  were  the  last  words  he  ever  spoke,  save 
that  when  his  sister,  Catherine  of  Schwartzburg,  im- 

[70] 


DELFT   AND    HER   TRAGEDY 

mediately  afterwards  asked  him  if  he  commended  his 
soul  to  Jesus  Christ,  he  faintly  answered,  '  Yes.' 
His  master  of  the  horse,  Jacob  van  Maldere,  had 
caught  him  in  his  arms  as  the  fatal  shot  was  fired. 
The  Prince  was  then  placed  on  the  stairs  for  an 
instant,  when  he  immediately  began  to  swoon.  He 
was  afterwards  laid  upon  a  couch  in  the  dining-room, 
where  in  a  few  minutes  he  breathed  his  last  in  the 
arms  of  his  wife  and  sister. 

"  The  murderer  succeeded  in  making  his  escape 
through  the  side  door,  and  sped  swiftly  up  the 
narrow  lane.  He  had  almost  reached  the  ramparts, 
from  which  he  intended  to  spring  into  the  moat,  when 
he  stumbled  over  a  heap  of  rubbish.  As  he  rose  he 
was  seized  by  several  pages  and  halberdiers,  who  had 
pursued  him  from  the  house.  He  had  dropped  his 
pistols  upon  the  spot  where  he  had  committed  the 
crime,  and  upon  his  person  were  found  a  couple  of 
bladders,  provided  with  a  piece  of  pipe,  with  which 
he  had  intended  to  assist  himself  across  the  moat, 
beyond  which  a  horse  was  waiting  for  him.  He 
made  no  effort  to  deny  his  identity,  but  boldly 
avowed  himself  and  his  deed.  He  was  brought  back 
to  the  house,  where  he  immediately  underwent  a  pre- 
liminary examination  before  the  city  magistrates. 
He  was  afterwards  subjected  to  excruciating  tor- 
tures ;  for  the  fury  against  the  wretch  who  had 
destroyed  the  father  of  the  country  was  uncontrolla- 
ble, and  William  the  Silent  was  no  longer  alive  to 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

intercede — as  he  had  often  done  before — in  behalf 
of  those  who  assailed  his  life." 

The  tortures  that  the  man  endured  prior  to  his 
speedy  execution  are  unmentionable. 

"  William  of  Orange,"  continues  Motley,  "  at  the 
period  of  his  death,  was  aged  fifty-one  years  and  six- 
teen days.  He  left  twelve  children.  By  his  first 
wife,  Anne  of  Egmont,  he  had  one  son,  Philip,  and 
one  daughter,  Mary,  afterwards  married  to  Count 
Hohenlo.  By  his  second  wife,  Anna  of  Saxony,  he 
had  one  son,  the  celebrated  Maurice  of  Nassau,  and 
two  daughters,  Anna,  married  afterwards  to  her 
cousin,  Count  William  Louis,  and  Emilie,  who  es- 
poused the  pretender  of  Portugal,  Prince  Emanuel. 
By  Charlotte  of  Bourbon,  his  third  wife,  he  had  six 
daughters ;  and  by  his  fourth,  Louisa  de  Coligny, 
one  son,  Frederic  William,  afterwards  stadtholder 
of  the  Republic  in  her  most  palmy  days.  The 
Prince  was  entombed  on  the  3rd  of  August  at  Delft, 
amid  the  tears  of  a  whole  nation.  Never  was  a  more 
extensive,  unaffected,  and  legitimate  sorrow  felt  at 
the  death  of  any  human  being." 

So  passed  the  greatest  man  that  little  Holland 
ever  did  or  ever  will  produce.  His  ashes  lie  in  a 
vault  in  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  of  Delft,  together  with 
those  of  thirty-five  other  princes  and  princesses  of 
the  House  of  Orange,  the  last  being  King  William  III, 
father  of  the  present  Queen,  who  died  on  November 
23rd,  1890.  Above  the  vault  stands  the  handsome 

[72] 


DELFT   AND    HER   TRAGEDY 

and  imposing  marble  monument  to  William  the  Silent, 
worked  by  the  de  Keysers,  begun  by  the  father  in 
1616  and  finished  by  the  son.  A  translation  of  the 
Latin  epitaph  of  the  Prince  reads  as  follows : 

In  honor  of  God  Almighty  and  for  an  eternal  memorial 
of  William  of  Nassau,  Prince  of  Orange,  father  of  his 
fatherland,  who  valued  the  welfare  of  the  Netherlands  more 
than  his  own  interests  or  those  of  his  family;  who  twice, 
and  principally  at  his  own  expense,  collected  powerful  armies 
and  led  them  into  the  field  under  the  command  of  the  States; 
who  averted  the  tyranny  of  Spain;  called  back  and  restored 
the  true  religion  and  the  ancient  laws;  who  at  last  left  the 
nearly  regained  liberty  to  be  confirmed  by  his  son,  Prince 
Maurice,  heir  to  the  virtues  of  his  father;  the  truly  pious, 
prudent  and  invincible  hero,  whom  Philip  II,  King  of  Spain, 
that  terror  of  Europe,  feared,  but  could  neither  subdue  nor 
intimidate,  but  killed  with  gross  perfidiousness  by  the  hand 
of  a  hired  murderer,  the  United  Provinces  have  ordered  this 
to  be  erected  as  an  eternal  memorial  of  his  merits. 

Motley's  phraseology  with  regard  to  the  Prince's 
attributes  and  ambitions  cannot  be  improved  upon. 

"  His  firmness  was  allied  to  his  piety.  His  con- 
stancy in  bearing  the  whole  weight  of  a  struggle, 
as  unequal  as  men  have  ever  undertaken,  was  the 
theme  of  admiration,  even  to  his  enemies.  The  rock 
in  the  ocean,  *  tranquil  amid  raging  billows,'  was  the 
favorite  emblem  by  which  his  friends  expressed  their 
sense  of  his  firmness.  From  the  time  when,  as  a 
hostage  in  France,  he  first  discovered  the  plan  of 
Philip  to  plant  the  Inquisition  in  the  Netherlands, 
up  to  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  he  never  faltered 
in  his  determination  to  resist  the  iniquitous  scheme. 

[73] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

This  resistance  was  the  labor  of  his  life.  To  exclude 
the  Inquisition,  to  maintain  the  ancient  liberties  of 
his  country,  was  the  task  which  he  appointed  to  him- 
self when  a  youth  of  three-and-twenty.  Never  speak- 
ing a  word  concerning  a  heavenly  mission,  never  de- 
luding himself  or  others  with  the  usual  phraseology 
of  enthusiasts,  he  accomplished  the  task  through 
danger,  amicl  toils,  and  with  sacrifices  such  as  few 
men  have  ever  been  able  to  make  on  their  country's 
altar." 

Truly,  Wilhelmina  has  an  illustrious  ancestor. 


[74] 


VI 

THE  HAGUE  AND  SCHEVENINGEN 

A  DUTCH  saw  has  it  that  you  "  make  your  for- 
tune in  Rotterdam,  consolidate  it  in  Amster- 
dam, and  spend  it  at  The  Hague."     I  am  not 
so  sure  about  the  veracity  of  the  first  two  clauses, 
but  you  can  certainly  spend  it  at  The  Hague. 

The  Hague  is  at  once  the  most  beautiful  and  the 
most  expensive  city  in  Holland.  It  is  the  Paris,  the 
Washington,  the  Berlin  of  the  Netherlands  all  in 
one.  Like  Paris,  it  is  so  overflowing  with  history 
and  art  that  it  would  take  a  small  book  to  tell  of 
it  all  in  detail ;  like  Washington,  it  is  beautiful,  and 
the  official  residence  of  the  chief  executive  of  the 
nation  and  the  diplomatic  corps,  but  not  half  so 
expensive;  like  Berlin,  again  it  is  just  as  beautiful 
and  twice  as  expensive.  It  is  the  magnetic  pole  of 
the  American  tourist  in  Holland,  and  it  takes  pains 
to  cater  in  many  ways  to  his  whims  and  fancies,  not 
to  mention  his  pocketbook,  and  thus  hold  his  patron- 
age. Half  the  town  speaks  English  and  most  of  the 
remaining  half  understands  it.  Its  people  are  oblig- 
ing and  courteous  and  seem  to  take  a  personal  in- 
terest in  making  your  stay  one  of  pleasure  and  in- 

[75] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

struction  as  they  do  in  no  other  city  in  Europe. 
In  The  Hague  I  have  tried  to  explain  to  an  obtuse 
conductor,  in  smatterings  of  German,  Dutch,  and 
English,  where  I  wished  to  get  off  the  car,  and  half 
a  dozen  fellow-passengers,  finding  a  stranger  in  diffi- 
culty, have  chimed  in  without  the  least  solicitation 
and  untangled  my  knots  of  pantomime  with  real 
Dutch  verbiage. 

But,  being  the  tourist  center  that  it  is,  it  has 
naturally  developed  the  old  familiar  nuisance  to  be 
found  in  all  cities  of  its  ilk  in  Europe:  the  piratical 
parasite  who  stands  in  ambush  behind  the  hotel  porter 
as  you  start  out  in  the  morning  and  tags  along 
halfway  to  your  destination,  shouting  an  incessant 
"Do  you  vont  a  guite,  sir?  Do  you  vont  a  guite?" 
You  will  find  him  in  almost  every  part  of  the  town, 
but  his  particular  lair  is  in  the  lee  of  the  picture 
galleries.  Either  by  instinct  or  by  abnormal  powers 
of  observation  he  knows  that  the  average  tourist 
whose  time  is  limited  will  make  a  bee  line  for  the 
nearest  picture  gallery  before  he  has  even  had  an 
opportunity  to  unpack  his  grip.  So  here  near  the 
galleries  the  guide  awaits  the  coming  of  his  prey. 
If  you  succumb  to  his  prattle,  all  is  lost,  save  the 
hope  that  he  may  soon  run  out  of  things  to  show 
you.  But  an  excellent  entertainment  for  a  party 
of,  say,  four  or  five  is  to  club  together  and  hire  a 
guide,  let  him  take  you  whither  he  will,  and,  during 
the  process,  keep  him  under  a  rapid  fire  of  questions 

[76] 


THE   HAGUE   AND   SCHEVENINGEN 

so  foolish  and  insipid  that  it  will  tax  his  ingenuity 
even  to  answer  them  incorrectly — as,  you  may  re- 
member, Mark  Twain  and  his  friend  overwhelmed 
their  guide  in  Genoa.  This  is  the  only  way  to  ob- 
tain value  received  with — more  often,  without — re- 
spect to  the  guide,  for  his  sense  of  humor  is  pro- 
verbially null  and  void  and  affords  a  vulnerable 
target. 

And  a  wonder  it  is  to  me  that  some  of  these  "  old 
master"  centers  do  not  consider  us  Americans  the 
most  appreciative  of  art  of  any  people  in  the  world. 
They  must  think  that  we  are  picture  and  cathedral 
crazy — and  I  have  no  doubt  they  do,  and  snicker  up 
their  sleeves  in  lieu  of  a  less  ill-mannered  outburst. 
Granted  that  in  itself  it  is  an  education  to  see  the 
famous  pictures — I  admit  that  there  are  other  things 
in  the  world  just  as  wonderful  as  old  paintings,  many 
of  which  are  of  notoriously  poor  draughtsmanship 
but  have  become  famous  merely  from  the  fact  that 
the  paint  still  retains  its  luster  after  three  hundred 
and  some  years.  We  pay  too  little  attention  to  the 
life  of  the  cities  and  the  traits  of  their  peoples  as 
they  are  found  to-day. 

But  I  digress.  This  is  not  a  lecture  on  the  marvels 
or  fallacies  of  art. 

The  site  of  The  Hague  was  originally  a  hunting- 
park  owned  and  operated  by  the  Counts  of  Holland 
who  used  to  come  over  frequently  from  Haarlem  to 
hunt  their  deer.  From  this  fact  it  derived  its  Dutch 

[77] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

nomenclature,  'S  Graven  Hage,  meaning  "  the  Count's 
inclosure."  The  allurements  of  the  place  must  have 
been  to  the  detriment  of  official  business  in  Haarlem, 
for  they  felled  most  of  the  trees  with  which  it  was 
overgrown  and  transferred  thither  the  seat  of  gov- 
ernment about  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century. 
Beginning  with  Maurice  of  Nassau  in  1593,  it  be- 
came the  official  residence  of  the  stadtholder  of  the 
Republic. 

Having  been  thus  honored  as  the  capital  of  Dutch 
statesmanship  in  the  early  days,  the  main  historical 
curiosity  in  The  Hague  is  the  Binnenhof,  a  group 
of  ancient  buildings  where  the  stadtholders  lived  and 
worked  and  had  their  being  and  tried  to  dissolve 
frequent  plots  for  their  own  extermination.  Here 
William  II,  Count  of  Holland  and  afterward  elected 
Emperor  of  Germany,  built  a  castle  in  ,1250,  which, 
forty  years  later,  was  enlarged  and  fitted  up  for  a 
permanent  residence  by  his  son,  Floris  V.  At  the 
east  of  the  Binnenhof  stands  the  old  gabled  and 
turreted  Hall  of  the  Knights,  erected  at  the  time  of 
Floris  and  recently  restored  and  put  into  use  for 
legislative  purposes. 

But  those  days,  however  glorious  from  the  point  of 
view  of  national  advancement,  were  also  the  days  of 
plot  and  intrigue,  and  there  is  scarce  an  historical 
building  in  Holland  but  might  tell  its  tale  of  a  trag- 
edy. On  the  13th  of  May,  1619,  the  seventy-two 
year  old  prime  minister  of  the  nation  at  the  time, 

[78] 


THE   HAGUE   AND   SCHEVENINGEN 

Jan  van  Oldenbarnevelt,  was  put  to  death  on  a 
scaffold  erected  in  the  Binnenhof  "  for  having  con- 
spired to  dismember  the  States  of  the  Netherlands, 
and  greatly  4  troubled  God's  church,"  according  to 
Maurice  of  Orange,  whose  displeasure  he  had  in- 
curred. The  learned  Grotius,  scholar  and  statesman 
and  the  then  senator  from  Rotterdam,  who  was 
arrested  at  the  same  time  as  Oldenbarnevelt  for 
alleged  conspiracy  with  him,  was  sentenced  to  prison 
for  life  in  the  castle  of  Loevenstein,  near  Gorinchem. 
Happily,  however,  with  the  help  of  his  wife,  he 
effected  means  of  escape  ere  he  had  been  confined  a 
full  year. 

Hard  by  the  Binnenhof  stands  the  old  Gevangen- 
poort,  now  containing  a  morbidly  interesting  collec- 
tion of  guillotine  blocks  that  have  seen  their  grew- 
some  service,  neck  twisters,  back  breakers,  and  other 
such  unhappy  instruments  of  torture,  which  recall, 
all  too  vividly,  perhaps,  the  days  when  they  were 
wont  to  be  put  into  actual  and  frequent  use  in  that 
same  tower.  In  the  tower,  too,  they  will  show  you 
some  of  the  dark,  musty  old  dungeons,  used  for  the 
former  incarceration  of  political  prisoners.  Their 
names,  written  in  blood  by  many  of  the  victims, 
can  still  be  traced  upon  the  walls.  Here  also  is 
where,  in  1672,  Cornelius  De  Witt,  falsely  accused 
of  plotting  against  the  life  of  William  III,  and  his 
brother  John,  who  had  unwisely  hastened  to  the 
tower  to  intercede  in  his  behalf,  were  put  to  their 

[79] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

horrible  deaths  by  the  gullible  mob  of  citizens,  who, 
believing  in  the  guilt  of  Cornelius,  had  assembled  in 
the  neighborhood  to  make  a  demonstration  against 
him.  The  remains  of  the  brothers  De  Witt  rest  in 
the  Nieuwe  Kerk. 

The  Willem'splein,  a  large  square  a  hundred  yards 
or  less  to  the  east  of  the  Binnenhof,  is  the  center  of 
gravity  of  The  Hague's  traffic  and  street  railway 
service.  From  here  you  may  take  an  electric  car 
to  almost  any  part  of  the  city,  and  to  the  suburbs 
as  well.  In  the  center  of  the  plein  stands  the  bronze 
statue  of  William  the  Silent,  done  by  Royer  and 
erected  in  1848,  with  the  Prince's  motto,  "Tranquil 
Amid  Raging  Billows,"  inscribed  in  Latin  on  the 
pedestal. 

Facing  the  square  on  the  west  side  stand  the 
Colonial  Offices  and  the  Ministry  of  Justice,  while 
just  off  the  northwest  corner  is  the  Mauritshuis — 
the  Louvre,  the  Corcoran  Gallery,  the  Kaiser  Friede- 
rich's  Museum  of  The  Hague.  Built  in  the  early  half 
of  the  seventeenth  century  as  a  residence  for  the 
Dutch  West  India  Company's  Governor  of  Brazil, 
it  now  shelters  what  is  probably  the  most  notable 
collection  of  paintings  gathered  under  one  roof  in 
Holland,  the  gifts  to  the  nation  of  the  different 
stadtholders. 

The  reputed  gems  of  this  collection  are  Rem- 
brandt's rather  morbid  of  subject,  but  admirably 
executed,  "  School  of  Anatomy,"  and  a  large  animal 

[80] 


THE   HAGUE   AND    SCHEVENINGEN 

painting  by  Paul  Potter,  known  as  "The  Bull,"  in 
which  Potter  presents  a  collection  of  farm  animals. 
Their  owner,  standing  nearby,  appears  to  be  nearly 
as  large  as  the  bull,  which  is  the  central  figure,  and 
the  bull,  in  turn,  is  just  a  shade  smaller  than  the 
tree  under  which  the  owner  stands.  Taken  individu- 
ally, the  animals  are  painted  in  a  most  marvelous 
manner,  but  with  regard  to  composition  I  should 
think  the  accomplished  Potter  would  rather  have 
been  known  by  his  smaller  animal  pictures  and  his 
landscapes ;  eight  of  the  best  of  the  latter  now 
hang  in  the  Hermitage  in  St.  Petersburg.  ' '  The  Bull ' ' 
was  carried  off  to  the  Louvre  by  the  French  at  the 
time  of  the  flight  of  the  Dutch  stadtholder  in  1795, 
where  it  was  awarded  fourth  place  in  point  of  value. 
Originally  purchased  in  1749  for  something  like 
$300,  Napoleon  restored  it  to  the  Dutch  nation  at 
a  handsome  profit  for  about  $25,000. 

The  Mauritshuis  also  contains  masterpieces  by 
Holbein,  Jan  Steen,  Rubens,  Van  Dyke,  Terburg, 
Vermeer,  and  other  famous  Dutch  artists,  together 
with  a  Madonna  by  Murillo  and  some  interesting 
royal  portraits  by  Velasquez. 

Backing  upon  the  Mauritshuis  is  the  picturesque 
Vyver,  a  broad  sheet  of  water  punctured  here  and 
there  by  the  divings  of  ducks  and  swans.  Near  the 
center  of  its  south  side  it  reflects  the  walls  and  towers 
of  the  ancient  Binnenhof,  while  on  its  north  it  is 
lined  with  many  rows  of  trees. 

[81] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Not  far  from  where  the  lofty  spire  of  iron  open- 
work of  the  Groote  Kerk — the  scene  of  the  wedding 
ceremony  of  Wilhelmina  and  Duke  Henry  of  Mecklen- 
burg-Schwerin  on  February  7,  1901 — serves  as  a 
conspicuous  landmark  for  strangers  in  the  city,  and 
facing  a  continuation  of  the  busy  Hoogstraat,  rises 
the  unimposing  royal  palace,  from  the  front  windows 
of  which  the  Queen  may  look  out  upon  an  equestrian 
statue  of  the  father  of  her  country,  William  the 
Silent.  It  is  a  palace  that  gives  the  impression  of 
having  been  built  for  comfort  rather  than  ostenta- 
tion, and  when  the  Queen  is  not  in  residence  you 
may  obtain  tickets  of  permission  to  be  taken  through 
by  a  servant,  from  a  little  tobacco  store  near  by. 

None  of  the  rooms  of  the  palace  is  particularly 
striking  as  to  decorations  and  furniture,  save  one, 
and  that  is  about  the  most  remarkable  apartment  of 
any  palace  on  the  continent.  Floor,  walls,  and  ceil- 
ing, it  is  one  solid  mass  of  the  most  exquisitely 
carved  teakwood,  given  by  the  colony  of  Java  as 
a  wedding  present  to  the  Queen.  You  will  wonder 
little  that  it  took  upwards  of  thirty-five  men  seven 
years  to  complete  the  job.  There  are  gold  and  in- 
laid pieces  of  wonderful  workmanship  in  the  cabinets 
that  border  the  walls — presents  from  the  Javanese 
to  the  little  Juliana — which  add  to  the  whole  impres- 
sion of  unalloyed  richness  welded  together  in  perfect 
taste,  without  so  much  as  giving  the  hint  of  a  "gin- 
gerbread" effect.  In  beautiful  gardens  at  the  rear 

[82] 


THE    HAGUE   AND    SCHEVENINGEN 

of  the  palace  the  Queen  walks  every  morning  with 
Juliana  after  dejeuner  at  eleven. 

Farther  along  to  the  northwest  is  the  fashionable 
residence  section  of  The  Hague,  with  the  Willem's 
Park  as  its  principal  focus.  In  the  center  of  this 
park,  in  an  open  space  called  the  "  Plein  1813," 
rises  a  handsome  national  monument,  unveiled  in 
1869  to  commemorate  the  restoration  of  Dutch  in- 
dependence by  the  expulsion  of  the  French  in  1813 
and  the  return  of  the  pristine  exile,  Prince  William 
Frederic  of  Orange,  who  landed  at  Scheveningen  and 
ascended  the  throne  of  Holland  as  king.  Not  far 
from  here  and  still  to  the  northwest,  is  the  finest 
modern  picture  gallery  in  Holland,  the  Mesdag  Mu- 
seum, presented  to  the  State  by  the  modern  Dutch 
artist,  H.  W.  Mesdag,  and  his  wife,  in  1903. 

The  shopping  district  of  The  Hague  comprises  the 
Hoogstraat  and  its  immediate  vicinity,  the  Spuistraat 
and  the  Wegenstraat.  The  narrow  Spuistraat  is  al- 
ways the  most  congested.  Like  the  Hoogstraat  in 
Rotterdam  and  the  Kalverstraat  in  Amsterdam,  it  is 
so  thickly  patronized  from  four-thirty,  say,  until 
dark  that  vehicular  traffic  through  it  is  self-suspended 
for  the  sake  of  saving  time ;  even  the  pitiless  Hague 
bicyclist  is  compelled  to  dismount  and  push  his  wheel 
through  it.  At  this  late  hour  of  the  day  the  cafes 
are  given  over  to  the  cordially  inclined  and  the  coffee 
drinkers,  who  fill  their  favorite  rendezvous  to  the 
bursting  point.  As  in  Berlin,  the  Zoological  Gar- 

[83] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

den  at  The  Hague,  with  its  cafe-concerts,  is  also  a 
much  frequented  spot  for  recreation,  but,  unlike  the 
Berlin  garden,  the  less  said  about  its  zoology  the 
better. 

The  beautiful  old  forest  called  the  Bosch,  lying 
just  to  the  east  of  The  Hague,  intersected  with  dis- 
used and,  therefore,  rather  stagnant  canals,  is  the 
Versailles  of  Holland,  and  the  "  House  in  the  Wood  " 
is  its  Trianon.  But  the  Bosch  is  much  more  acces- 
sible to  The  Hague  than  Versailles  is  to  Paris,  for 
an  electric  car  will  take  you  there  from  the  plein 
in  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes. 

Erected  in  1645  by  Prince  Frederic  Henry  of 
Orange  for  his  consort,  the  Princess  Amalia  of 
Solms,  "  The  House  in  the  Wood "  latterly  became 
famous  as  the  seat  of  the  international  peace  con- 
ference which  the  representatives  of  twenty-six  differ- 
ent world  powers  held  here  in  1899.  The  conference 
convened  in  the  so  styled  "  Orange  Room,"  an  oc- 
tagonal hall  lighted  with  a  cupola,  its  walls  and  ceil- 
ing embellished  with  allegorical  scenes  from  the  life 
of  Prince  Frederic,  done  in  oils  by  Dutch  and  Flemish 
artists.  It  is  by  far  the  most  important  apartment 
in  the  palace.  The  other  rooms  contain  some  won- 
derful Japanese  embroideries,  cabinets  of  elaborately 
and  minutely  carved  ivories,  rice  paper  tapestries, 
porcelains,  and  other  exquisite  objects  of  Oriental 
handcraft.  It  was  here  that  the  American  historian, 
John  Lothrop  Motley,  wrote  a  greater  part  of  his 

[84] 


THE    HAGUE   AND    SCHEVENINGEN 

"  The  Rise  of  the  Dutch  Republic  "  and  a  portrait 
of  him  hangs  upon  the  wall  of  one  of  the  rooms. 

A  short  distance  to  the  north  of  the  forest  will 
be  erected  the  much  talked  of  Peace  Palace  for  the 
International  Court  of  Arbitration,  toward  the  cost 
of  which  Mr.  Carnegie  has  promised  to  contribute 
a  million  and  a  half. 

But  two  miles  from  The  Hague  lies  Scheveningen — 
Holland's  most  fashionable,  most  expensive,  most 
diverting  seaside  resort — the  Atlantic  City  of  the 
Netherlands.  It  may  be  approached  by  divers 
means :  by  railway  train,  by  electric  car,  by  omnibus, 
or  on  foot.  The  two  principal  and  most  popular 
routes  served  by  the  electric  cars  from  The  Hague 
are  the  Old  Way  and  the  New.  Both  are  tree 
shaded  and  attractive,  but  the  more  tree  shaded  and 
attractive  is  the  Old  Way.  The  clinkers  with  which 
the  most  of  it  is  paved  were  put  down  as  early  as 
1666.  Lined  on  the  left  with  handsome  summer  resi- 
dences and  on  the  right  with  a  pretty  park,  the  Old 
Way  to  Scheveningen,  with  its  geometric  rows  of 
stately  trees,  is  undoubtedly  the  finest  avenue  in  Hol- 
land. 

Scheveningen,  beside  being  a  watering  place  of 
many  merits  and  numerous  shortcomings,  is  a  town 
of  no  mean  importance  as  a  fishing  port.  Its  fleet 
numbers  two  hundred  or  more  pinken,  or  small  fishing 
boats,  and  their  catch  is  sold  at  auction  at  the  fishing 
harbor  upon  arrival,  as  at  Ostend. 

[85] 


WINDMILLS   AND  WOODEN   SHOES 

The  name  of  the  place  is  a  hard  one  for  the 
English-speaking  tourist  to  pronounce,  but  he  will 
not  be  far  wrong  if,  in  his  apparent  eagerness  to  get 
there,  he  inquires  of  the  genial  head  porter  at  the 
hotel  in  The  Hague  the  number  of  the  car  line  that 
will  take  him  to  "  Shave  agin."  He  may  slur  over 
a  syllable  or  two  in  the  abbreviation,  but  the  head 
porter  will  make  due  allowance  for  at  least  a  brave 
attempt  to  master  the  word — which  is  something — 
and  will  direct  him  accordingly. 

Instead  of  the  old  familiar  seaside  board  walk, 
Scheveningen  has  its  stone  paved  Boulevard,  a  mile 
and  a  quarter  long  and  eighty  feet  wide.  This  is 
the  promenade  of  the  international  hodgepodge  of 
holiday  makers,  augmented  on  a  Sunday  and  in  the 
evenings  by  gigglings  girls  and  sober  countenanced 
fishermen  from  the  village.  Invariably  dressed  in 
their  best  Sunday-go-to-meetings,  the  most  conspicu- 
ous feature  of  the  feminine  attire  is  a  wide  shawl, 
often  suggesting  the  Persian  in  design,  worn  tight 
about  the  shoulders  and  reaching  down  to  the  waist 
in  the  back.  Of  course  the  skirts  are  padded  volumi- 
nously about  the  hips,  and  the  girls  display  at  the 
temples  many  varieties  of  gilded  antennae  to  hold 
their  white  caps  securely. 

About  midway  of  the  Boulevard  and  back  of  it, 
stands  the  ever  present  Kurhaus,  although  what  they 
profess  to  cure  in  that  house  may  simply  be  a  re- 
luctance on  the  part  of  the  holder  to  diminish  his 

[86] 


THE    HAGUE   AND   SCHEVENINGEN 

letter  of  credit.  It  is  three  hundred  feet  or  more  in 
length,  this  Kurhaus,  and  its  commodious  hall,  in 
which  are  held  some  very  excellent  symphony  orches- 
tra concerts,  can  seat  as  many  as  3,000  people.  On 
the  side  of  the  Kurhaus  overlooking  the  sea  there  is 
a  large  stone  terrace  where  the  band  plays  in  the 
afternoons,  and,  underneath  this,  a  very  expensive 
cafe. 

Just  opposite  the  Kurhaus  is  the  pier — a  real  old- 
fashioned  ocean  going  steel  pier,  terminating  in  a 
concert  pavilion  and  built  right  out  into  the  water 
for  almost  a  quarter  of  a  mile,  having  a  plate  glass 
partition  down  the  middle,  so  that  there  is  a  lee  and 
a  weather  side  to  it.  At  intervals  along  its  sides 
are  fish  nets,  which  may  be  raised  from  or  lowered 
into  the  water  by  means  of  a  crank  and  spindle 
attached  to  the  pier  railing.  These  are  rented  to 
the  public  on  the  time  basis,  and  there  is  ever  a 
group  of  persistent  people  vibrating  between  one  net 
and  another  in  the  hope  that  its  operator  may  bring 
to  the  rail  a  real  denizen  of  the  watery  depths.  I 
contracted  the  fever  one  day  myself  and  fell  in  with 
this  flitting  crowd  for  an  hour,  more  or  less,  only 
to  be  unrewarded  in  the  end,  but  I  am  told  that  if 
anything  piscatorially  larger  than  an  adult  white- 
bait inadvertently  becomes  enmeshed  in  any  of  the 
nets  and  is  brought  to  the  surface  the  successful 
fisher  receives  round  after  round  of  enthusiastic 
applause. 

[87] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

And  Scheveningen  is  in  no  sense  of  the  word  a 
philanthropic  institution.  Everything  in  the  place 
has  its  price  mark  tagged  securely  on.  You  have  to 
pay  to  walk  on  the  pier,  concert  or  no  concert;  you 
have  to  pay  to  listen  to  the  band  from  the  Kurhaus 
terrace ;  you  have  to  pay  to  sit  in  one  of  the  yellow 
mushroom  chairs  that  make  the  beach  resemble  a 
fungus  growth ;  you  have  to  pay  even  to  take  a  bath 
in  the  ocean,  and  are  then  restricted  to  the  hours 
of  from  seven  in  the  morning  until  sunset.  On  Sun- 
days they  close  up  the  ocean  for  bathing  purposes  at 
2  P.M. 

But  sea  bathing  is  a  different  proposition  in  Eu- 
rope from  what  it  is  in  America.  At  Scheveningen  it 
is  a  matter  of  the  most  serious  import,  and  the  necessi- 
ties for  its  success — I  almost  said  "enjoyment" — 
are  many.  To  go  about  it  in  the  proper  manner, 
you  first  approach  the  ticket  window  on  the  Boule- 
vard in  front  of  the  Kurhaus  and  apply  to  the 
cashier  for  a  permit,  varying  in  price  according  to 
the  class  of  bath  selected.  Providing  you  have 
brought  your  own  bathing  suit,  this  will  be  the  only 
payment  necessary,  for  the  permit  graciously  entitles 
you  to  the  use  of  two  towels,  obviously  for  drying 
purposes.  In  case  you  have  come  unprepared  with 
regard  to  bathing  apparel,  you  will  have  to  pay  for 
a  suit,  although,  judging  from  those  I  have  seen 
personally,  the  wearer  should  be  the  one  to  be  re- 
warded. To  avail  yourself  of  the  use  of  a  "bath- 
CBS] 


1 


* 

£8 


11 
M    S) 

1.1 

I! 


THE   HAGUE   AND   SCHEVENINGEN 

sheet" — whatever  that  may  be — necessitates  addi- 
tional expenditure,  and  there  are  various  other  alleged 
indispensable  articles  that  the  cashier  may  try  to 
inflict  upon  the  unwary  at  face  value. 

The  next  step  is  to  repair  to  the  beach  and  await 
the  calling  out  of  the  number  shown  on  your  ticket, 
whereupon  you  are  assigned  to  a  striped  kind  of  house 
on  wheels,  of  the  same  kith  and  kin  as  an  English 
"  caravan "  wagon.  In  this  you  must  wait  until 
the  attendant  sees  fit  to  hitch  his  horse  to  it  and 
haul  you,  wagon  and  all,  into  the  surf.  During  the 
voyage  you  will  have  finished  changing  your  costume 
and  the  minute  your  wagon  is  backed  into  the  water 
you  are  ready  to  commence  your  amphibious  per- 
formance. A  high  sign  to  the  attendant  will  be  the 
signal  that  you  have  survived  the  operation  of  bath- 
ing, and,  presto!  his  horse  will  haul  you  out  upon 
dry  land  again. 

Doubtless  on  account  of  the  expenses  incurred  in 
taking  the  proper  precautions  for  bathing  there  are 
more  waders  at  Scheveningen,  especially  among  the 
thrifty  Dutch,  than  there  are  bathers.  Human  snipe, 
ducks,  and  storks,  according  to  their  respective 
builds,  with  trousers  rolled  to  their  knees  or  petti- 
coats pinned  up  to  a  similar  altitude,  daily  patrol 
the  edge  of  the  ocean  for  a  mile  or  more. 

Surf  riding  is  another  favorite  method  of  spending 
a  half  hour's  time  at  Scheveningen,  the  game  being 
to  suffer  oneself  to  be  bobbed  up  and  down  at  the 

[89] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

mercy  of  the  breakers  in  a  tethered  fishing  boat,  only 
to  be  ultimately  carried  ashore  again  on  the  backs 
of  the  crew. 

An  obelisk  at  the  southern  end  of  the  Boulevard 
commemorates  the  landing  of  Prince  William  Frederic 
of  Orange,  but  the  victorious  naval  achievement  of 
Admiral  de  Ruyter  in  defeating  the  combined  French 
and  English  fleets  off  the  coast  of  Scheveningen  in 
1673,  remains  unhonored. 


[90] 


VII 

LEYDEN  AND  HAARLEM 

IF  you  happen  to  have  penetrated  Holland  as  far 
as  The  Hague  without  having  availed  yourself 
of  the  steam  tram  method  of  conveyance  between 
one  town  and  another  the  trip  by  this  means  from 
The   Hague   to   Leyden   might  be  suggested   as   an 
excellent    one   with   which   to   commence   to    develop 
the  habit. 

The  tram  that  operates  on  regular  schedule  be- 
tween the  Schenkweg  in  The  Hague  and  the  Groote 
Ryndyk  in  Leyden  pierces  a  delightful  country  check- 
ered by  a  labyrinth  of  canals,  long  and  short,  wide 
and  narrow.  Even  every  patch  of  humble  cabbages 
appears  to  be  surrounded  with  one,  along  which  the 
truck  gardeners  pole  their  boats  that  bear  the  vege- 
tables direct  from  soil  to  market.  Tree  crested  dikes, 
straight  as  the  shortest  distance  between  two  points, 
stretch  away  into  the  perspective  in  every  direction. 
Villas  and  cozy  country  cottages  come  quickly  into 
view  and  fade  away  again  behind  their  groves  of 
trees,  giving  the  traveler  just  a  flitting  suggestion 
of  the  comfort  their  owners  must  find  in  them.  In 
passing  through  the  neat  little  brick  paved  villages 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

of  Voorburg  and  Voorschoten  the  tram  engine  careens 
around  through  the  streets  as  if  it  had  developed  a 
first-class  state  of  intoxication.  It  aims  directly  for 
a  kitchen  door  here  and  the  walls  of  a  church  there, 
only  to  miss  them  by  a  few  feet  while  making  a  dex- 
terous turn  to  the  other  side  of  the  road,  twisting  its 
diminutive  train  of  two  or  three  cars  in  its  wake. 
Then  out  beside  the  dikes  again  it  puffs  and  sputters 
on  its  seemingly  remonstrative  way  to  Leyden. 

Leyden  is  a  quiet,-  curious  old  town,  rich  in  history 
and  effervescent  with  learning.  With  due  respect  to 
art,  it  was  the  birthplace  of  a  dozen  or  more  of  the 
most  illustrious  Dutch  painters  of  the  sixteenth  and 
seventeenth  centuries,  including  Jan  Steen,  Gerard 
Dou,  and  last,  but  by  no  means  least,  the  celebrated 
Rembrandt;  but,  strange  to  tell,  it  cannot  boast  of 
a  single  masterpiece  of  any  of  them.  At  its  univer- 
sity, then  renowned  throughout  the  world,  the  future 
savants  of  the  age  came  to  pore  over  their  books. 
Hugo  Grotius  was  one  of  its  earlier  sons,  and  later, 
in  1755,  at  the  age  of  twenty-seven,  Oliver  Gold- 
smith aspired  in  vain  to  the  degree  of  Doctor  of 
Medicine,  afterwards  conferred  at  Louwain,  giving 
Leyden  the  first  opportunity  of  being  its  donor. 
The  town's  many  museums — of  ethnography,  of  natu- 
ral history,  of  comparative  anatomy,  of  physiology, 
of  archeology — bespeak  its  hobby:  the  insatiable 
thirst  for  knowledge.  Even  many  of  the  signs  one 
reads  in  the  town  are  in  Latin. 

[92] 


\\ 


•O   S 

t»o 

«  J3 
•J    « 


o 

4>    .1 

H-a 
al 

O    <" 


LEYDEN   AND    HAARLEM 


Four  hundred  years  ago  Leyden  could  brag  about 
its  100,000  population  without  treading  on  the  toes 
of  any  city  in  Holland.  To-day  it  contains  little 
more  than  half  as  many  souls  as  it  did  then.  Since 
its  "  revision  downward  "  from  its  pinnacle  at  the  top 
of  the  Dutch  textile  industry,  it  has  seemed  a  sacri- 
lege to  conduct  business  in  the  place.  Its  university 
sustained  for  a  time  the  reputation  that  its  weaving 
enterprises  relinquished,  but  now  we  go  to  Vienna, 
instead  of  to  Leyden,  to  glean  the  fine  points  in  the 
science  of  medicine.  Using  Discovery  for  a  fulcrum, 
Time  undermines  methods  with  the  infallibility  of  the 
sun's  attraction,  and  brands  them  as  obsolete  forever. 

The  historical  bench  mark  of  Leyden  is  the  siege 
it  survived  at  the  point  of  the  Spanish  bayonet  in 
the  sixteenth  century.  Lasting,  in  the  aggregate, 
from  October  31,  1573,  until  October  3,  1574, 
this  siege  may  be  considered  as  one  of  the  longest 
and  most  persistent  in  the  annals  of  history,  and  its 
ultimate  relief  was  as  characteristic,  picturesque,  and 
ingenious  as  if  it  had  been  the  plot  of  a  tale  by 
Dumas. 

At  the  expense  of  the  lives  of  4,000  patriots,  him- 
self included,  Count  Louis  of  Nassau  effected  a  par- 
tial relief  of  Leyden  five  months  after  the  siege 
commenced ;  but,  encouraged  by  the  butchery  of  this 
Dutch  commander  and  his  comparative  handful  of 
soldiers,  the  Spaniards  continued  to  hold  on  so  tena- 
ciously that  William  the  Silent  concocted  the  daring 

[93] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

scheme  to  flood  the  intervening  country  with  water 
from  the  sea  so  that  his  fleet  might  sail  in  to  the 
rescue. 

Having  already  reduced  Leyden  to  the  point  of 
starvation,  Valdez,  the  Spanish  general,  in  glowing 
phrases  offered  pardon  to  the  citizens  if  they  would 
but  open  the  gates  of  the  beleaguered  city  and  sur- 
render. But  the  people  would  have  none  of  it,  plac- 
ing renewed  confidences  in  their  leader,  William  of 
Orange,  and  consoling  themselves  /  as  best  they  could 
with  the  firm  belief  that  he  was  listening  to  their 
prayers  and  would  ultimately  devise  some  means  of 
raising  the  blockade. 

As  time  dragged  wearily  on,  the  sorties  of  the 
Dutch  became  less  frequent  and,  finally,  it  was  an- 
nounced by  the  din  of  clanging  church  bells  that  the 
gates  should  henceforth  be  kept  closed  and  no  man 
should  venture  outside  the  city. 

Even  at  this  time,  William,  unbeknown  to  the 
people  of  Leyden,  was  appealing  to  the  States  to 
allow  him  to  open  the  flood  gates  of  Rotterdam  and 
Schiedam  and  to  pierce  the  dikes  along  the  Meuse 
and  the  Yssel  in  order  to  inundate  the  country  and 
give  his  fleet  a  fairway  to  the  very  watchtowers  of 
Leyden.  After  much  debate,  his  proposition  for 
effecting  the  relief,  although  a  most  destructive  one 
to  the  surrounding  country,  was  accepted;  bonds 
were  issued  by  the  States  to  help  defray  the  expenses 
of  the  task,  and  patriotic  Dutch  housewives  disposed 

[94] 


of  silver  plate  and  jewelry  as  their  contributions  to 
the  financial  furtherance  of  the  scheme. 

It  was  not  until  some  days  after  the  Prince  had 
supervised  in  person  the  unlocking  of  the  gates  at 
Schiedam  and  Rotterdam  on  August  3rd  and  the 
rupture  of  the  dikes  at  sixteen  different  places  along 
the  Yssel,  that  the  starving  prisoners  of  Leyden  com- 
menced to  grow  impatient  and  appealed  by  letter  to 
Orange,  telling  him  that  their  bread  was  gone  and 
that  the  supply  of  its  only  substitute,  malt  cakes, 
would  last  but  four  days  longer.  To  their  letters  the 
Prince,  having  unfortunately  and  most  untimely  con- 
tracted the  fever,  answered  reassuringly  from  his 
sick  bed  in  Rotterdam  to  the  effect  that  the  dikes 
had  been  cut,  that  water  was  already  pouring  in 
over  the  land,  and  that  as  soon  as  its  depth  was 
sufficient  to  float  the  fleet  an  attempt  at  rescue  would 
be  made.  The  message  was  read  by  the  Burgomas- 
ter, Van  der  Werf,  to  the  people  assembled  in  the 
marketplace,  and  the  welcome  news  was  received  with 
great  rejoicings. 

Although  the  water  about  Leyden  had  by  this  time 
reached  a  depth  of  ten  inches,  the  Spaniards,  at  first 
confused,  later  became  confident  that  the  thing  could 
not  be  accomplished.  When,  from  the  lack  of  a 
breeze,  the  water  failed  to  rise  higher;  and  because 
of  the  inability  of  the  prostrate  Prince,  which  neither 
the  besiegers  nor  besieged  had  heard  of  nor  even 
imagined,  curtailed  additional  attempts  to  flood  the 

[95] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

country;  the  Spaniards  began  to  taunt  the  valiant 
citizens.  "  Go  up  to  the  tower,  ye  Beggars,"  they 
cried,  "go  up  to  the  tower  and  tell  us  if  ye  can  see 
the  ocean  coming  over  the  dry  land  to  your  relief." 

But  the  citizens  did  go  up  to  the  tower,  and,  after 
bravely  having  withstood  the  siege  until  early  in 
September,  by  which  time  a  gale  of  wind  had  risen 
and  the  Prince  had  recovered  in  a  measure  from  his 
illness,  they  did  see  the  ocean  coming  over  the  dry 
land  to  their  relief,  and  with  a  vengeance.  Not  only 
that,  but  they  also  saw  a  welcome  fleet  of  two  hun- 
dred vessels  coming  in  on  the  crest  of  the  ocean; 
they  saw  this  fleet  come  up  from  the  south,  steadily 
and  undisputed,  to  within  five  miles  of  Leyden;  they 
saw  it  demolish  the  Spanish  forts — a  navy  of  sur- 
geons cauterizing  the  festering  sores  on  the  face  of 
fair  Holland.  Then,  to  their  consternation,  they 
saw  the  gale  die  out  and  the  waters  recede,  leaving 
the  entire  fleet  stranded  at  North  Aa,  just  beyond 
cannon's  shot  of  its  goal. 

Despair  took  the  place  of  hope  in  the  hearts  of  the 
besieged.  They  implored,  and  then  threatened  the 
life  of  Burgomaster  Van  der  Werf  if  he  refused  to 
surrender  to  the  Spaniards.  He  came  out  into  the 
little  square  just  opposite  the  old  church  of  St. 
Pancras,  waved  his  felt  hat  as  a  signal  for  silence, 
and  delivered  himself  of  a  short  but  pithy  address 
that  turned  despair  into  faith,  animosity  into  pride, 
and  fired  the  hearts  of  his  countrymen  with  renewed 

[96] 


LEYDEN   AND    HAARLEM 


patriotism.  What  he  said  on  that  occasion  has  gone 
down  in  history  as  one  of  the  most  superb  proclama- 
tions ever  uttered  by  a  brave  man  for  a  national 
cause. 

"  What  would  ye,  my  friends  ?  "  he  said.  "  Why 
do  ye  murmur  that  we  do  not  break  our  vows  and 
surrender  the  city  to  the  Spaniards? — a  fate  more 
horrible  than  the  agony  which  she  now  endures.  I 
tell  you  that  I  have  made  an  oath  to  hold  the  city, 
and  may  God  give  me  strength  to  keep  my  oath! 
I  can  die  but  once;  whether  by  your  hands,  the 
enemy's,  or  by  the  hand  of  God.  My  own  fate  is 
indifferent  to  me.  Not  so  that  of  the  city  intrusted 
to  my  care.  I  know  that  we  shall  starve  if  not  soon 
relieved ;  but  starvation  is  preferable  to  the  dis- 
honored fate  which  is  the  only  alternative.  Your 
menaces  move  me  not.  My  life  is  at  your  disposal. 
Here  is  my  sword;  plunge  it  into  my  breast  and 
divide  my  flesh  among  you.  Take  my  body  to  ap- 
pease your  hunger,  but  expect  no  surrender  so  long 
as  I  remain  alive." 

How  the  populace  of  Leyden,  after  listening  to 
this,  rushed  to  the  ramparts  with  renewed  courage 
engendered  within  them  and  hurled  defiance  in  the 
teeth  of  the  bloodthirsty  Spaniards;  how  as  many 
as  8,000  died  in  the  streets  from  the  plague  alone, 
germinated  by  the  foulness  of  the  beleaguered  city; 
how  the  frantic  people  stripped  even  the  leaves  from 
the  trees  to  relieve  their  hunger  and  fought  over  the 

[97] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

garbage  pits  for  every  possible  morsel  of  food;  how 
at  last  a  violent  equinoctial  gale  on  the  first  two 
days  of  October  filled  the  lowland  with  water  and 
floated  the  stranded  fleet ;  how  this  fleet  sailed  in 
between  the  trees  and  the  chimney  pots  of  submerged 
farmhouses,  putting  the  Spaniards  to  flight  as  it 
advanced;  and  how,  on  the  morning  of  the  3rd  of 
October,  the  Dutch  ships,  under  Admiral  Boisot, 
paddled  up  the  canals  of  Leyden  while  the  stricken 
citizens  gathered  on  the  banks  and  tried  to  shout 
with  wild  delight,  but  could  not  on  account  of  their 
emaciated  condition — are  all  matters  of  historical 
fact  that  may  be  perused  in  detail  in  the  pages  of 
any  authoritative  work  on  the  rise  of  the  Dutch 
Republic. 

It  is  also  an  historical  fact  that  on  the  very  next 
day  after  the  relief  of  Leyden  the  gale  shifted  and 
blew  with  all  its  fury  from  the  northeast,  driving  out 
the  waters  before  it,  so  that  within  a  few  days  the 
country  was  as  it  had  been  before  and  the  labor  of 
repairing  the  dikes  commenced  forthwith. 

As  a  reward  for  the  sufferings  of  the  people  of 
Leyden  the  city  was  granted  an  annual  fair  of  ten 
days  with  exemption  from  taxes  and  the  States  caused 
the  university  to  be  established. 

The  University  of  Leyden  doesn't  look  much  like 
our  idea  of  a  university,  for  the  professors,  except 
those  in  the  department  of  medicine,  teach  their 
classes  at  home,  the  nine  hundred  students  live  in  the 

[98] 


LEYDEN    AND    HAARLEM 


town,  and,  as  a  result,  dormitories  and  classrooms 
are  things  that  may  be  dispensed  with.  The  old 
"  university  building,"  however,  originally  a  nunnery, 
maintains  in  its  connection  one  of  the  finest  libraries 
in  Holland. 

Not  far  from  where  the  lofty  perpendicular  Gothic 
windows  of  the  church  of  St.  Pancras  overlook  the 
square  in  which  the  Burgomaster  extemporized  with 
such  eloquence  at  the  time  of  the  siege,  a  shipload  of 
gunpowder  exploded  in  1807.  After  removing  the 
debris  of  the  buildings  which  it  razed,  the  Leydeners 
planted  the  site  as  a  public  park  and  erected  a  statue 
of  the  valiant  Van  der  Werf  in  the  center  of  it. 
Backed  by  two  or  three  handsome  new  buildings  be- 
longing to  the  university  and  facing  a  wide,  clear 
canal,  this  Van  der  Werf  Park  vies  with  the  Botanical 
Gardens  behind  the  old  university  building,  as 
peaceful  a  spot  in  which  to  spend  a  moonlit  evening 
pondering  over  the  history  of  the  old  place  as  may 
be  found  in  Leyden;  while  from  the  Morsch  Gate, 
a  well  preserved  remnant  of  earlier  fortifications, 
many  temptingly  shaded  walks  twist  and  twine 
through  the  immediate  neighborhood. 

In  Leyden,  and  not  in  Amsterdam  or  Rotterdam, 
as  one  might  suppose,  I  came  across  a  beggar  for 
the  first  time  in  Holland,  although  technically,  he 
came  across  me.  The  atmosphere  of  book  learning 
was  probably  what  launched  him  on  his  career,  for 
he  certainly  seemed  able-bodied  enough  to  make  a 

[99] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

more  honest  living  by  the  sweat  of  his  brow ;  but 
the  people  of  Leyden  are  not  given  much  to  fluent 
perspiration.  And  it  might  be  here  mentioned  that 
one  of  the  reliefs  of  travel  in  Holland,  compared  with 
Italy,  for  example,  is  its  dearth  of  mendicants  and 
beggars.  Cripples  and  the  poverty  stricken  are  to 
be  found  in  Holland  as  in  any  other  country,  but,  as 
a  rule,  they  do  not  submit  their  complaints  to  the 
sympathies  of  the  tourist.  Wherever  possible,  one 
of  Holland's  world  famed  charitable  institutions  gets 
hold  of  them  and  sends  them  from  the  congested  city 
to  the  pauper  colony  in  the  country.  Three  such 
colonies,  founded  in  1817,  are  situated  near  the  rail- 
way line  from  Meppel  to  Leeuwarden,  while  in  the 
one  city  of  Amsterdam  there  are  more  than  a  hundred 
benevolent  institutions.  The  Society  for  the  Public 
Welfare,  or,  in  Dutch,  Maatschappij  tot  Nut  van't 
Algemeen,  with  headquarters  in  Amsterdam,  was 
founded  in  1784  and  has  made  its  influence  felt 
throughout  the  entire  kingdom. 

Katwyk  and  Noordwyk,  three  miles  apart,  the  par- 
ticular seashore  resorts  that  cater  especially  to  the 
people  of  Leyden  and  Haarlem,  are  both  connected 
by  steam  tram  with  Leyden.  Both  are  insignificant 
and  expensive,  and  neither  is  so  attractive  as  Dom- 
burg  nor  so  gay  as  Scheveningen.  Their  wide  beaches 
of  fine  sand  would  seem  to  us  their  only  assets. 

But  if  you  would  have  further  evidence  of  the 
Dutch  mastery  of  the  element  of  water,  take  the  tram 

[100] 


LEYDEN    AND    HAARLEM 


to  Katwyk  aan  Zee  and  walk  up  the  beach  a  half 
mile  or  more  to  where  they  have  harnessed  the  mouth 
of  the  old  Rhine  and  curbed  its  outlet  to  suit  their 
convenience. 

A  hurricane  having  thrown  up  the  sand  before  the 
mouth  of  the  river  in  the  year  839,  thus  causing  its 
flow  into  the  ocean  to  be  blocked,  its  backed-up  waters 
created  a  swamp  which  all  but  covered  the  entire 
territory  known  as  Rynland,  and  which,  in  the  sub- 
sequent diversion  of  the  river's  course,  was  largely 
responsible  for  the  formation  of  the  vast  delta  in  the 
south.  In  1807  the  Dutch  conceived  the  project  of 
draining  this  swamp  and  making  polders  of  it  by 
pumping  its  water  into  especially  constructed  canals. 
Later  they  relieved  the  congestion  of  sand  at  the 
old  Rhine's  mouth  and  built  a  series  of  flood  gates 
across  it.  By  closing  these  gates  at  high  tide  they 
were  enabled  to  exclude  the  inrush  of  water  from  the 
ocean,  and  by  opening  them  again  at  low  tide,  they 
permitted  the  accumulated  waters  of  the  river  to 
flow  out  into  the  ocean  at  the  rate  of  50,000  cubic 
feet  per  minute.  Thus  was  the  Haarlemerpolder, 
seventy-two  square  miles  in  extent,  reclaimed  from 
what  used  to  be  the  Haarlemermeer. 

The  tram  line  from  Leyden  to  Katwyk  passes  first 
through  the  village  of  Endegeest,  the  home  and  work- 
shop of  Descartes  for  a  number  of  years,  and  then 
through  Rynsburg,  the  former  residence  of  that 
grandfather  of  modern  philosophy,  Spinoza,  born  of 

[101] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

Jewish  parents  in  Amsterdam  in  1632.  The  little 
places  are  so  shady,  so  peaceful,  so  still,  that  anyone 
having  been  brought  up  within  their  solitudes  might 
very  naturally  develop  the  pastime  of  philosophizing 
without  half  trying. 

The  latter  part  of  April  or  the  first  part  of  May 
is  the  proper  time  of  year  to  visit  Haarlem  and  its 
vicinity.  Then  the  tulips,  crocuses,  lilies,  and  hya- 
cinths are  in  the  halcyon  days  of  their  bloom,  sway- 
ing languidly  to  and  fro  in  the  gentle  breeze  and 
diffusing  a  delicious  perfume  that  is  wafted  over  the 
country  for  miles.  Fields  and  fields  of  them  there 
are — a  sweetly  scented  "  crazy  quilt "  of  superlative 
sheen  and  luster;  for  Haarlem,  the  greatest  flower 
garden  in  the  world,  exports  bulbs  of  all  varieties  to 
every  civilized  country. 

Whether  the  Dutch  or  the  Portuguese  became  the 
first  European  tulip  fanciers  is  a  moot  question.  The 
flower  originally  came  from  the  East,  its  name  being 
derived  from  the  Persian  toliban,  or  turban.  Suffice 
it  to  say  that  by  1636  bulb  culture  in  general  and 
tulip  culture  in  particular  had  developed  into  a  veri- 
table mania  in  and  about  Haarlem.  Bulbs  became 
then  as  much  an  item  of  speculation  as  shares  of 
mining  stock  are  at  the  present  day — and  just  as 
uncertain.  Fortunes  were  made  and  lost  in  the  open 
market.  Generally  speaking,  everybody  in  Haarlem, 
whether  or  not  he  professed  to  be  anything  of  a 
floriculturist,  dickered  through  the  brokers  in  bulbs. 

[102] 


LEYDEN   AND    HAARLEM 


One  speculator  in  Amsterdam  netted  almost  $35,000 
in  four  months.  Prices  went  up  steadily  until,  at  the 
height  of  the  boom,  the  bulb  of  a  "  Viceroy  "  brought 
$2,000,  an  "Admiral  Liefkens "  slightly  more,  and 
a  "  Semper  Augustus "  was  sold  for  $6,000. 

Then  came  the  panic.  The  bottom  dropped  out 
of  the  bucket  of  bulbs.  The  government  forbade 
the  gambling,  and  between  suns  the  price  of  an  off- 
shoot of  the  "  Semper  Augustus "  dropped  to  fifty 
florins,  or  approximately  twenty-two  dollars. 

After  a  century  of  quiet,  somebody  started  a  short- 
lived palpitation  in  hyacinths,  but  the  highest  price 
paid  for  a  single  hyacinth  bulb  was  not  more  than 
$800. 

To-day  the  Dutch  make  more  of  a  serious  business 
of  bulb  raising,  and  the  rather  inconspicuous  off- 
shoot has  become  a  recognized  article  of  trade  and 
commerce.  Almost  all  of  the  2,000  Dutch  varieties 
of  tulips  have  been  developed  by  patient  and  thought- 
ful culture  from  the  Tulipa  Gesneriana,  which  Con- 
rad Gesner  purchased  in  Constantinople  and  brought 
to  Augsburg  in  Germany  in  1559. 

In  Holland  the  tulip  is  propagated  both  from  the 
seed  and  from  the  offshoots  of  the  bulb.  The  off- 
shoots may  be  expected  to  reproduce  their  true  vari- 
ety as  to  colorings  and  markings,  growing  to  a  flower- 
ing size  in  three  or  four  years.  Seedlings,  on  the 
other  hand,  are  less  vain  and  more  reticent.  No 
matter  what  the  complexions  of  their  parents  might 

[103] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

have  been,  the  first  flowers  of  a  seedling,  appearing 
after  it  has  had  four  or  five  years'  growth,  are  of 
a  single  color.  A  tulip  in  such  a  state  is  called  a 
"  breeder,"  and  remains  so  until,  after  several  years, 
its  flower  suddenly  "  breaks  "  into  the  gorgeous  colors 
of  the  "  flamed  "  or  the  "  feathered  "  tulip.  It  is  then 
classified  according  to  color  and  variety  and  placed 
upon  the  market.  To  hasten  this  period  of  "  break- 
ing" in  the  career  of  the  tulip — for  no  man  can 
compute  with  any  degree  of  certainty  the  year  in 
which  it  will  take  place — the  growers  resort  to  vari- 
ous means,  even  sending  the  bulbs  away  sometimes 
for  a  change  of  climate.  "  Breeders "  that  have 
taken  on  the  desired  markings  and  colors  are  said 
to  have  become  "  rectified."  But  the  problem  of 
chance  that  the  seedling  tulips  will  "break"  into 
a  new  variety  is  one  that  the  Dutch  have  been  pon- 
dering over  for  centuries,  and,  as  has  already  been 
said,  they  have  been  rewarded  to  the  extent  of  2,000 
varieties.  Much  care  is  devoted  to  the  preparation 
of  the  soil  and,  after  fertilizing  thoroughly,  the 
grower  will  first  plant  it  with  potatoes  for  a  couple 
of  years  in  order  to  diminish  its  strength  and  adapt 
it  better  to  the  cultivation  of  tulips.  The  bulbs  are 
taken  up  each  summer,  their  offshoots  detached,  and 
then  replaced  in  fresh  soil. 

The  year  before  the  siege  of  Leyden  Haarlem 
suffered  a  siege  under  Frederic  of  Toledo,  the  son 
of  the  Spaniard,  Alva ;  but  Haarlem  was  not  so 

[104] 


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LEYDEN   AND    HAARLEM 


fortunate  as  her  sister  city.  After  bravely  maintain- 
ing the  place  against  the  enemy  for  a  period  of  seven 
weary  months,  with  odds  of  seven  to  one  against 
them,  the  Prince  of  Orange,  with  heavy  heart,  sent  a 
message  asking  the  commandant  to  make  the  best 
terms  he  would  with  the  Spaniards  and  surrender, 
the  many  attempts  of  the  Prince  to  rescue  the  city 
having  proved  futile. 

The  massacre  that  followed  the  surrender  was  too 
shocking  to  bear  the  telling  of  in  detail.  The  garri- 
son and  its  commandant,  the  Protestant  clergy,  and 
2,000  or  more  burghers  were  cruelly  butchered  by 
the  Spaniards.  Alva  himself,  however,  was  forced 
to  admit  to  Philip  that  "  never  was  a  place  defended 
with  such  skill  and  bravery  as  Haarlem " ;  not  only 
the  men  of  the  town,  little  accustomed  to  arms,  but 
the  women  also  had  taken  an  active  part  in  Haarlem's 
defense,  and  Kenau  Hasselaer,  "  a  widow  of  dis- 
tinguished family  and  unblemished  reputation,  about 
forty-seven  years  of  age,  who,  at  the  head  of  her 
amazons"  (some  three  hundred  or  more)  "partici- 
pated in  many  of  the  most  fiercely  contested  actions 
of  the  siege,  both  within  and  without  the  walls." 

As  the  birthplace  of  a  number  of  Holland's  cele- 
brated painters,  including  Franz  Hals  and  Jacob  van 
Ruysdael,  Haarlem  holds  as  her  most  cherished  pos- 
session a  handsome  percentage  of  the  works  of  the 
former,  numbering  among  which  are  his  ten  famous 
corporation  and  regent  canvases,  arranged  in  chrono- 
[105] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

logical  order  in  the  museum  of  the  old  Town  Hall. 
To  know  these  will  mean  that  you  know  the  jovial 
Franz. 

Across  the  market  place  from  the  Town  Hall 
rises  the  Groote  Kerk,  and,  just  beside  it,  the  old 
meat  market,  erected  in  1602,  and  said,  by  those 
who  know,  to  be  the  quaintest  brick  and  stone  Renais- 
sance building  in  the  Netherlands.  The  Groote  Kerk 
is  of  a  graceful  cruciform  shape  and  around  the  edges 
of  its  buttresses,  like  chicks  peeping  from  under  the 
protecting  wings  of  the  mother  hen,  are  built  a 
number  of  curious  little  one -story  houses  whose  in- 
teriors suggest  the  last  word  in  coziness  and  cleanli- 
ness, and  where  the  much  maligned  Dutch  decorative 
taste  may  be  seen  at  its  best.  The  church  contains 
what  was  long  considered  the  largest  and  loudest  pipe 
organ  in  the  world,  possessing  three  keyboards,  sixty 
stops,  and  5,000  pipes  of  varying  lengths  and  diame- 
ters up  to  thirty-two  feet  in  the  case  of  the  former 
and  fifteen  inches  with  respect  to  the  latter.  A  can- 
non ball,  imbedded  in  the  wall  of  the  south  aisle  of  the 
church,  was  allowed  to  remain  undisturbed  during 
the  restoration  as  a  reminiscence  of  the  siege  of  1572. 

At  the  side  of  the  church,  in  the  market  place, 
stands  a  bronze  statue  of  a  Dutchman  of  the  name 
of  Coster,  erected  in  1856  upon  rather  fictitious  evi- 
dence of  his  having  been  the  inventor  of  printing. 
Nothing  in  the  way  of  printed  matter  having  been 
proven  to  have  been  done  by  Coster  prior  to  or  even 

[106] 


LEYDEN   AND   HAARLEM 


shortly  after  1447,  when  Gutenburg  of  Mayence 
developed  the  art,  the  palm  for  this  distinction  was 
finally,  but  reluctantly,  relegated  to  the  latter. 

Instead  of  Spanish  encampments,  Haarlem  is  now 
surrounded  with  a  beautiful  forest,  a  prominent  col- 
lection of  attractive  residences,  municipal  play- 
grounds for  the  children,  and  lives  in  an  atmosphere 
of  peace  and  comfort.  The  old  Amsterdam  Gate 
at  the  east  end  of  the  city  serves  as  the  only  reminder 
that  the  place  at  one  time  possessed  strong  fortifica- 
tions. 


[107] 


VIII 

THE   CITY  OF  NINETY  ISLANDS 

FROM  all  practical  points  of  view,  if,  indeed,  it 
is  stretching  the  metaphor  a  bit  with  regard 
to  smells  and  scenes  (to  preserve  the  allitera- 
tion), Amsterdam  may  be  considered  the  Venice  of 
the  Netherlands.     Like  Venice  it  seems   to  have  as 
many  canals  as  there  are  blood  vessels  in    the  human 
body;  like  Venice  it  is  the  home  of  the  damp  cellar, 
for  the  city  is  built  upon  piles. 

In  the  erection  of  a  new  building  in  Amsterdam 
the  first  thing  they  do  is  to  pump  out  the  site,  and, 
after  they  have  it  fairly  dry,  keep  on  pumping  to 
prevent  it  from  filling  up  again ;  when  the  structure 
is  completed  they  celebrate  the  event  by  the  installa- 
tion of  a  permanent  pump  in  the  basement  which 
they  must  needs  start  running  at  stated  intervals 
to  diminish  the  volume  of  water  that  has  seeped  in 
through  the  cracks.  The  driver  of  piles  takes  the 
place  of  our  stone  mason,  for  of  piles  is  the  city's 
foundation.  A  foot  at  a  whack,  these  piles  are  sunk 
into  the  sand.  They  are  then  morticed  with  mud, 
girders  are  strung  between  them,  and  behold!  the 
house  on  stilts  commences  to  assume  its  architectural 

[108] 


THE    CITY    OF    NINETY    ISLANDS 

design.  By  and  by  the  mud  loses  its  adhesive  prop- 
erties to  a  certain  degree,  and  the  building  commences 
to  lean  dangerously  forward  or  backward,  although 
without  the  dire  results  that  one  might  imagine. 

Amsterdam  is  the  largest  and  most  commercially 
important  city  in  Holland.  Founded  in  1204  by 
Gysbrecht  II,  who  built  a  castle  here,  and  choked  the 
flow  of  the  river  Amstel  by  throwing  a  dam  across  it 
— from  which  more  or  less  momentous  event  the  town 
derived  its  appellation, — Florins  V,  of  Binnenhof 
fame,  favored  the  place  to  the  extent  of  granting  its 
exemption  from  the  taxes  imposed  by  Zeeland  and 
Holland.  In  1311  it  was  formally  absorbed  by  the 
latter  province.  From  that  time  on  Amsterdam  gath- 
ered greater  importance  as  a  commercial  center,  until, 
in  the  early  years  of  the  seventeenth  century,  after 
the  Dutch  had  finally  succeeded  in  beating  off  the 
Spaniards,  the  establishment  of  the  Dutch  East  India 
Company  added  its  might  to  raise  Amsterdam  to 
the  rank  of  the  foremost  mercantile  community  in 
the  world.  Later  she  commenced  to  gravitate  slowly 
down  the  incline  of  trade  and  her  cogs  refused  to 
take  hold  again  until  the  latter  half  of  the  nineteenth 
century,  although  at  the  time  of  the  dividing  of 
the  Dutch  Republic,  when  King  Louis  Bonaparte 
took  up  his  residence  in  Amsterdam  in  1808,  she  was 
considered  the  third  greatest  city  in  the  French  Em- 
pire. To-day  she  has  advanced  well  past  the  half 
million  population  mark.  Although  as  regards  her 

[109] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

foreign  trade  she  does  not  profess  to  compete  with 
Rotterdam,  as  a  money  market  and  clearing  house 
for  colonial  products  she  is  preeminent  in  the 
Netherlands. 

The  Dam — a  large  square  that  owes  its  name  to 
the  fact  of  its  being  the  eastern  boundary  of  Lord 
Amstel's  embankment  across  the  river — is  the  axis 
around  which  Amsterdam  revolves.  It  is  literally 
the  hub  of  the  Dutch  universe.  Every  electric  car 
in  the  place  starts  from  the  Dam,  and  in  due  course 
of  time  will  wind  its  way  back  again.  The  principal 
edifices  adjacent  to  it  are  the  Royal  Palace,  the 
Nieuwe  Kerk,  or  New  Church,  and  the  imposing  post 
and  telegraph  offices. 

Completed  in  the  year  1655  at  a  total  cost  of 
more  than  $3,000,000,  this  Royal  Palace  was  origi- 
nally the  Town  Hall,  but  when  Louis  Bonaparte 
came  upon  the  scene  the  Dutch  made  him  a  present 
of  it  for  his  use  as  a  royal  residence.  At  a  later 
date  King  William  I  of  Holland  handed  it  back  to 
the  city,  whose  property  it  still  remains,  instead  of 
that  of  the  Crown;  so  that  when  Wilhelmina  makes 
her  annual  ten  days'  visit  to  Amsterdam  she  comes 
more  as  a  private  citizen  and  is  the  guest  of  the  city 
for  the  period  of  her  stay.  With  its  264  feet  of 
length  and  its  207  of  width  it  seems  rather  a  strain 
upon  the  imagination  to  picture  the  Royal  Palace 
as  standing  upon  stilts ;  but  such  is  actually  the  case, 
for  its  foundations  consist  of  13,659  piles  (to  be 

[no] 


THE   CITY   OF   NINETY  ISLANDS 

absolutely  accurate)  driven  from  forty  to  sixty  feet 
into  the  sand. 

The  difference  in  ages  between  the  Nieuwe  Kerk, 
just  around  the  corner  from  the  palace,  and  the 
Oude  Kerk,  or  Old  Church  of  Amsterdam,  is  that 
the  Oude  Kerk  was  erected  in  1300,  whereas  they 
didn't  commence  work  upon  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  until 
a  hundred  and  eight  years  later.  Both  were  doing 
their  religious  duties  before  America  was  discovered. 
Successive  conflagrations  destroyed  different  parts 
of  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  and  the  first  service  in  the  build- 
ing as  it  stands  to-day  was  not  celebrated  until  1648. 
The  church  contains  the  tombs  of  three  of  Holland's 
famous  fighting  admirals,  that  of  Admiral  de  Ruyter 
included,  in  addition  to  the  hermes  bust  of  another, 
and  the  mausoleum  of  a  Dutch  lieutenant  of  marines, 
van  Speyk  by  name,  who,  during  the  revolution  of 
Holland,  "maintained  on  the  5th  of  February,  1831, 
before  Antwerp,  the  honor  of  his  native  flag  at  the 
cost  of  his  life "  by  blowing  up  his  gunboat  in  the 
harbor  of  Antwerp  to  prevent  it  from  falling  into 
the  possession  of  the  enemy.  Since  1814  four  kings 
of  Holland  have  taken  the  oath  of  the  constitution 
in  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  and  here,  on  September  6, 
1898,  Wilhelmina  was  formally  inaugurated  Queen 
of  the  Netherlands — an  event  recently  commemorated 
by  the  installation  of  a  handsome  stained  glass  win- 
dow in  the  church.  Well  might  the  Nieuwe  Kerk  be 
said  to  be  the  Westminster  Abbey  of  Amsterdam. 

[in] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Connecting  the  Dam  with  the  central  railway  sta- 
tion is  the  wide  Damrak,  part  of  which  was  at  one 
time  a  canal.  In  the  opposite  direction  wiggles  the 
narrow  Kalverstraat,  Amsterdam's  principal  shop- 
ping street,  thronged  in  the  late  afternoon  and  even- 
ing with  that  part  of  the  population  of  the  city  that 
isn't  sipping  coffee  in  the  windows  of  its  cafes. 

Once  I  had  the  misfortune  to  be  stopping  in  Am- 
sterdam upon  the  occasion  of  the  Queen's  birthday, 
the  31st  of  August.  This  not  being  sufficient 
unpremeditated  self-punishment,  I  was  provincial 
enough  to  have  chosen  as  headquarters  what  appeared 
from  across  the  street  to  be  a  clean,  quiet  little 
hotel  in  the  Kalverstraat.  The  two  blended  most 
harmoniously.  Between  the  unmelodious  patriots 
who  paraded  the  Kalverstraat  from  sunset  to  sun- 
rise, and  the  battles  royal  participated  in  with  the 
ambidextrous  entomological  specimens  among  the  bed- 
clothes, I  did  anything  but  enjoy  a  refreshing  night's 
rest.  To  which  tale  there  are  two  morals :  avoid 
Amsterdam  on  the  Queen's  birthday,  and  little  Ju- 
liana's as  well,  and  eschew  the  hotels  in  the  Kalver- 
straat (one  especially,  which  shall  be  nameless)  as 
you  would  the  nest  of  the  subtle  hornet. 

At  the  southeastern  terminus  of  the  Kalverstraat 
stands  the  old  Mint  Tower  of  1620,  and  still  farther 
to  the  east  is  the  Rembrandtplein,  a  small,  park- 
centered  intersection  of  streets  named  in  honor  of 
Holland's  painter  par  excellence,  who  lived  for  six- 


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THE   CITY    OF   NINETY   ISLANDS 

teen  years  at  No.  4  Joden-Breestraat  in  Amster- 
dam's Jewish  quarter,  the  house  having  been  since 
marked  with  a  small  memorial  tablet. 

Here  bordering  the  Rembrandtplein  are  the  larger 
sidewalk  cafes,  jammed  of  a  summer's  evening  with 
pleasure  seeking  Amsterdamers,  each  with  a  cup  or 
a  glass  of  something  in  front  of  him.  Like  those 
found  in  the  ordinary  German  cafes  these  crowds 
seldom  change.  Here  you  may  find  the  same  people 
at  eleven  that  you  have  seen  at  seven,  and  in  exactly 
the  same  positions.  A  cup  of  coffee  followed  by  a 
cordial  is  the  usual  evening's  refreshment  programme, 
the  consuming  time  of  which  the  Amsterdamer 
will  expand  into  a  couple  of  hours  by  the  assiduous 
perusal  of  every  newspaper  and  periodical  he  can 
inveigle  the  waiter  to  bring  him,  interrupted  only 
by  an  occasional  sip  of  his  beverage.  Even  the  per- 
sistent street  singers,  who  come  one  at  a  time  to 
prolong  the  agony  and  stand  but  a  few  feet  away 
from  his  table,  yelling  triumphantly  into  his  ear,  fail 
to  disturb  him  in  the  least.  If,  unthinkingly,  he 
finishes  his  refreshment  before  he  considers  the  time 
has  arrived  to  go  home  to  bed,  he  will  calmly  smoke 
out  the  remainder  of  the  engagement.  The  expendi- 
ture of  half  a  gulden  or  less  will  buy  his  contentment 
until  the  following  evening. 

Many  of  the  indoor  cafes  charge  a  small  admission 
fee  for  the  privilege  of  listening  to  a  "  lady  orches- 
tra." In  each  of  these  that  part  which  is  adjacent 

[113] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

to  the  street  will  be  partitioned  off  by  a  dark  curtain, 
so  that  the  patrons  of  the  place  may  choose,  if  there 
be  any  choice,  between  the  crowds  on  the  street  and 
the  vaudeville  turns  that  may  be  scheduled  to  follow 
the  sufferings  of  the  musicians. 

On  the  Rembrandtplein  stands  also  the  Rem- 
brandt theater,  Amsterdam's  principal  playhouse, 
which,  by  way  of  information,  is  closed  in  summer. 
But,  by  way  of  further  information,  there  are  in 
the  city  a  number  of  vaudeville  theaters  that  cater 
to  the  less  exacting  in  the  matter  of  histrionic  art 
and  are  open  throughout  the  year,  offering  more 
or  less  respectable  performances. 

To  one  of  these  near  the  Rembrandtplein  I 
wended  my  way  upon  a  certain  evening,  desirous  of 
being  amused,  no  matter  what  the  consequences.  I 
obtained  my  money's  worth,  and  more.  It  cost  me 
one  and  a  half  gulden  to  get  in,  and  it  might  have 
cost  me  an  ear,  or  other  projecting  appendage,  to 
get  out  if  I  had  not  slipped  through  a  side  exit  as 
inconspicuously  as  I  could  during  the  height  of  the 
melee  and  commenced  forthwith  to  accelerate  my 
gait  toward  the  hotel.  I  think  the  disturbance  was 
inaugurated  by  an  American  protege  of  His  Pugilis- 
tic Highness,  John  Johnson,  but  I  did  not  consider 
it  exactly  safe  at  the  time  to  tarry  longer  in  order 
to  ascertain  definitely. 

It  so  happened  that  this  particular  vaudeville 
house  was  in  the  habit  of  concluding  its  performance 

["4] 


THE    CITY    OF    NINETY    ISLANDS 

each  evening  with  a  series  of  international  wrestling 
matches,  offering  a  considerable  monetary  reward 
to  the  winner  of  the  finals.  The  first  bout  of  the 
evening  of  my  visit  was  between  an  Englishman  and 
a  Dutchman,  which  terminated  satisfactorily  for  the 
latter  and  with  no  casualties.  The  crowd  went  ram- 
pant ;  whereupon  I  became  imbued  with  the  spirit  of 
the  thing,  ordered  another  cup  of  coffee — which,  by 
the  way,  was  served  gratis  by  the  management — and 
settled  myself  more  comfortably  to  enjoy  the  next 
tilt  between  a  Frenchman  and  a  Swede.  The  goug- 
ings  and  hair-pullings  resorted  to  by  the  Latin 
were  not  received  with  complacency  on  the  part  of 
the  audience,  and  when  he  lost  the  match,  he  made 
his  exit  with  ruffled  temper,  together  with  his  full 
share  of  hisses  and  catcalls.  Then  the  promoters 
of  the  scheme  made  a  managerial  mistake.  They 
pitted  a  bloated  Belgian  wrestler  against  the  cham- 
pion of  Amsterdam.  A  brief  reference  to  the  pages 
of  any  volume  reciting  the  incidents  of  1830-31  will 
convey  the  correct  impression  that  the  Belgians  and 
the  Dutch  are  not  the  intimate  playmates  they  used 
to  be — a  fact  which  in  itself  precluded  the  possibility 
of  any  amicable  settlement  of  the  forthcoming  ath- 
letic imbroglio. 

The  Belgian  proved  to  be  a  past  master  in  the 
science  of  hair-pulling  and  eye-gouging.  When  the 
even  tempered  Dutchman  finally  turned  him  on  his 
back  he  felt  called  upon  to  challenge  the  referee,  the 

[us] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

score  keeper,  the  orchestra,  the  audience,  or  any  other 
single  individual  or  group  of  them  that  happened 
to  be  within  reach.  The  crowd  hooted  the  villain  and 
applauded  the  hero. 

Just  at  this  inopportune  moment  a  dark,  ominous 
cloud,  of  African  parentage,  wrapped  in  a  true  Ala- 
bama grin  and  peg  top  trousers,  blew  in  from  the 
wings  and  commenced  to  congratulate  the  victor 
hilariously.  In  order  that  the  peace  respecting  repu- 
tation of  the  house  might  be  preserved,  a  brigade  of 
stage  hands  and  ushers  rused  in  double  phalanx  upon 
the  scene,  and,  with  rather  generous  turn  of  mind, 
attempted  to  distract  the  negro's  attention  and  keep 
him  from  maiming  the  Belgian.  Ultimately  they 
tried  to  put  the  negro  out- — an  inconsiderate  proced- 
ure, to  say  the  least.  I  once  saw  the  same  thing 
attempted  during  fair  week  in  Albuquerque,  to  the 
demolition  of  several  plate  glass  windows  and  the 
necessary  services  of  half  a  dozen  local  surgeons. 

The  last  I  remember  they  were  enticing  the  negro 
toward  the  front  door  in  a  none  too  gentle  manner, 
while  the  more  enthusiastic  half  of  the  audience  was 
making  for  the  stage,  and  the  other  half,  among 
whom  was  the  writer,  for  the  exits.  On  my  way  to 
the  hotel  there  passed  two  police  vans  loaded  to  the 
gunwales  with  a  blur  of  arms  and  legs. 

The  Rijks  or  Royal  Museum  stands  in  a  prominent 
location  to  the  south  of  the  Old  Town,  surrounded 
by  the  more  fashionable  residence  section  and  the 

[116] 


Diamond  workers  in  Amsterdam.  In  a  single  year  over 
$13,000,000  worth  of  the  gems  were  exported  from  this 
district  to  the  United  States 


THE    CITY    OF    NINETY    ISLANDS 

Vondel  Park.  From  street  floor  to  gables  it  is  filled 
with  objects  of  historical  and  technical  interest.  It 
would  take  just  as  long  to  "do"  it  thoroughly  as 
it  would  the  British  Museum  in  London  or  the  Metro- 
politan in  New  York.  But  the  tourist  in  Holland, 
usually  of  limited  time  allowance,  contents  himself 
with  a  hurried  inspection  of  the  different  collections 
in  the  Rijks  Museum  and  a  view  of  the  piece  de  re- 
sistance of  its  picture  gallery,  namely,  the  world 
renowned  painting  by  Rembrandt  erroneously  styled 
"The  Night  Watch."  Many  having  been  led  to 
believe,  on  account  of  the  very  marvelous  chiaroscuro 
of  the  picture,  that  Rembrandt  intended  it  to  repre- 
sent a  street  scene  at  night,  its  present  title  has 
been  given  universal  usage ;  but  in  reality  the  scene 
depicted  takes  place  in  daylight.  It  is  the  largest 
and  most  justly  celebrated  work  by  Rembrandt,  be- 
ing fourteen  and  a  quarter  feet  long,  and  eleven 
and  three  quarters  feet  wide.  It  was  painted  in 
1642,  and  represents  a  small  company  of  arque- 
busiers  under  Captain  Franz  Cocq  emerging  from 
their  shooting  gallery,  or  doele — a  name  so  commonly 
given  to  Dutch  hotels  that  you  will  find  a  "  Hotel 
de  Doelen"  in  almost  every  town  in  Holland.  The 
supposed  night  shadows  in  the  picture  are  in  truth 
cast  by  the  lofty  vaulting  of  the  gallery.  The  por- 
traits of  the  sixteen  members  of  the  guild  were  done 
from  life,  and  each  member  represented  in  the  pic- 
ture paid  the  artist  one  hundred  gulden,  which  re- 
C"7] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

numerated  him  to  the  extent  of  something  less  than 
$800  for  his  labors.  To-day  the  painting  could  not 
be  purchased  at  any  price. 

Not  the  least  interesting — nor  most  fragrant — 
section  of  Amsterdam  is  its  Jewish  Quarter,  situated 
in  the  eastern  part  of  the  Old  Town.  The  quarter 
is  a  typical  city  in  itself,  for  of  Amsterdam's  total 
population  more  than  60,000  are  Jews.  It  possesses 
ten  synagogues,  the  largest  of  which,  erected  as  early 
as  1670  by  the  Portuguese  Jews  and  said  to  resemble 
as  far  as  possible  the  ancient  Temple  of  Solomon, 
stands  in  the  Muiderstraat.  Freedom  of  religion 
was  accorded  these  persecuted  peoples  early  in  the 
history  of  Amsterdam,  and  to  Amsterdam  as  an 
asylum  they  flocked,  first  from  Spain  in  the  fourteenth 
and  fifteenth  centuries,  a  little  later  from  Portugal, 
then  from  the  Spanish  Netherlands,  from  Germany, 
and  from  Poland.  In  the  administration  and  the  com- 
mercial enterprises  of  the  city  their  wealth  wielded 
much  influence. 

Amsterdam  is  indebted  to  those  Portuguese  Jews 
who  emigrated  from  Antwerp  in  1576  for  the  intro- 
duction of  its  most  widely  known  industry,  that  of 
diamond  polishing — an  art  utterly  unknown  in 
Europe  prior  to  the  fifteenth  century.  To-day  there 
are  more  than  seventy  diamond  polishing  establish- 
ments in  and  about  the  city,  employing  some  10,000 
men,  and  they  are  building  a  new  diamond  exchange 
to  cost  in  the  neighborhood  of  $240,000.  The  cut 

[118] 


THE   CITY    OF   NINETY   ISLANDS 

diamonds  exported  to  the  United  States  from  the 
Amsterdam  district  alone  in  1909 — the  latest  figures 
at  my  elbow — were  valued  at  $13,319,417,  in  addi- 
tion to  more  than  a  million  dollars'  worth  in  the 
rough. 

The  rules  of  the  London  syndicate  from  which 
every  Amsterdam  diamond  polisher  must  purchase 
his  uncut  stones  are  equally  strict  with  the  regula- 
tion of  the  diamond  workers'  organization. 

In  the  former  case,  a  diamond  polisher  must  pro- 
cure an  introduction  to  the  London  merchant  through 
the  de  Beers  syndicate  in  order  to  obtain  a  "  sight." 
If  a  polisher  is  buying  diamonds  of  one  class,  say 
Kimberly,  he  may  not  under  any  circumstances  ob- 
tain a  "  sight  "  of  diamonds  of  any  other  class,  say 
Jagerfontein.  He  may  examine  the  parcel  of  dia- 
monds offered  to  him  for  a  "  sight "  for  fifteen  min- 
utes, no  longer.  If  they  do  not  suit  him  his  trip  to 
London  has  been  of  no  avail.  He  must  take  what 
is  offered  or  nothing,  and  at  the  price  quoted.  Until 
five  years  ago  a  polisher  was  punished  by  not 
being  able  to  obtain  a  "  sight "  for  a  year  if  he  re- 
fused to  accept  a  parcel  offered  for  purchase,  and 
he  would  often  pay  a  premium  of  $4,000  for  another 
man's  packet  without  seeing  a  stone. 

With  regard  to  the  worker,  no  one  in  Amsterdam 

may  learn  the  trade  of  diamond  polishing  without 

the  consent  of  the  organization  and  unless  he  be  the 

son  of  a  diamond  worker  or  jeweler.     He  must  be 

["9]   ' 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

under  eighteen  years  of  age,  he  must  pass  a  rigid 
examination,  and  if  he  desires  to  become  a  cleaver — 
the  highest  salaried  artisan  in  the  diamond  industry, 
whose  wages  often  amount  to  $120  a  week — he  must 
pay  sometimes  as  much  as  $2,000.  There  are  special 
schools  in  Amsterdam  for  turners  and  polishers  which 
charge  an  instruction  fee  ranging  from  $120  to  $150. 

The  rough  diamond  is  first  cleaved  by  hand,  or, 
if  thought  more  profitable,  it  is  set  in  a  bar  of  hot 
lead  which,  after  having  cooled,  is  placed  in  front  of 
a  phosphor-bronze  saw  and  sawed  in  half.  Whether 
or  not  this  saw  may  be  used  a  second  time  depends 
upon  the  crystallization  of  the  stone  sawed.  Some 
stones  that,  after  being  sawed,  are  considered  too 
hard  to  polish,  are  pulverized  and  mixed  with  emery 
dust  to  be  used  in  making  the  saws.  The  two  halves 
of  the  original  stone  are  then  handed  over  to  the 
cutters  who  cut  them  round,  or  nearly  so,  and  remove 
the  flaws.  The  polishers  then  polish  the  stones  and 
make  their  facets,  which,  in  the  case  of  a  gem  of 
the  first  class,  number  from  fifty-eight  to  sixty-four. 

Amsterdam  is  also  the  home  of  a  peculiar  institu- 
tion into  the  workings  of  which  some  of  our  own 
municipalities  might  delve  to  their  advantage.  It 
puts  the  predatory  money-loan  shark  out  of  business 
as  effectually  as  a  hydrochloric  acid  bath  would  a 
potato  bug.  This  institution  is  the  municipal  pawn- 
shop, known  as  the  Bank  of  Leening,  of  which  there 
are  fifteen  branches  in  the  city.  It  has  been  in 
[120] 


THE   CITY    OF   NINETY   ISLANDS 

successful  operation  for  centuries,  the  first  pawn 
ticket  showing  the  early  date  of  April  29,  1614. 
Loans  are  made  for  six  months,  and  all  articles 
not  redeemed  at  the  expiration  of  that  period  are 
sold  at  public  auction.  It  is  interesting  to  note 
that  among  the  articles  disposed  of  in  this  manner 
in  1909  were  3,427  sewing  machines,  1,325  bicycles, 
and  106  pianos  and  organs.  The  maximum  loan 
allowed  on  a  single  article  is  approximately  $201, 
while  the  low  rates  charged  have  been  the  cause  of 
much  anxiety  on  the  part  of  the  independent  pawn- 
brokers, and  with  the  desired  results.  You  may 
pawn  with  the  Bank  of  Leening  anything  from  a 
hair  comb  to  a  hair  mattress,  but  it  is  an  acknowl- 
edged fact  that  forty  per  cent,  of  its  business  is 
derived  from  that  well-meaning  Dutchman  addicted 
to  the  habit  of  wearing  his  best  suit  only  on  Sunday. 
This  he  pawns  on  Monday  and  redeems  on  Saturday, 
until  the  suit  wears  out  from  being  passed  over  the 
counter. 

One  item  more  to  the  credit  of  Amsterdam :  all 
the  slaughtering  of  animals  for  food  must  be  done 
in  the  municipal  abattoir,  and  meat  which  is  brought 
in  from  the  country  must  be  inspected  there  before 
it  is  offered  for  sale.  The  dealers  do  their  own 
slaughtering  and  must  pay  for  the  use  of  the  abattoir 
sixty-four,  thirty-four,  or  ten  cents,  according  to  the 
size  of  each  animal  slaughtered.  Especially  con- 
structed vans  then  transfer  the  meat  to  the  shops 

[121] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

of  the  different  dealers.  Inasmuch  as  horseflesh 
is  found  on  the  daily  menu  of  many  families  in 
Amsterdam,  5,444  horses  were  numbered  among  the 
150,000  or  more  animals  slaughtered  in  the  municipal 
abattoir  in  1909.  Mutton,  not  being  in  particular 
favor  with  the  Dutch  for  some  unknown  reason,  can- 
not be  bought  in  many  of  the  meat  shops,  and  there 
is  a  large  central  market  in  Amsterdam  that  carries 
only  mutton  as  its  stock  in  trade. 

The  Bank  of  Amsterdam  antedates  the  Bank  of 
England  by  almost  a  century,  being  founded  in  1609. 
Under  the  administration  of  the  Amsterdam  Corpora- 
tion, whose  executives  examined  its  specie  annually 
in  order  to  verify  the  statements  of  its  managers, 
the  business  world  became  so  confident  of  its  solv- 
ency that  its  guaranteed  certificates  were  usually 
offered  at  a  premium,  and  as  much  as  $180,000,000  in 
coin  has  been  held  against  these  certificates  at  one 
time.  Ever  since  its  establishment  it  has  retained  its 
place  as  one  of  the  strongest  financial  institutions  in 
the  world. 


[122] 


IX 

EXCURSIONS  ABOUT   AMSTERDAM 

IT  is  doubtful  indeed  if  any  other  city  in  Holland 
than  Amsterdam  can  tempt  the  tourist  with  a 
greater  number  of  pleasant  day's  excursions.  Ly- 
ing at  the  very  feet  of  North  Holland — a  travel 
territory  no  larger  in  area  than  the  state  of  Rhode 
Island,  but  replete  with  picturesque  nooks  and 
corners,  congested  with  types  and  abounding  in  pecu- 
liar customs — every  part  of  the  province  is  readily 
accessible  to  Amsterdam  by  rail  or  by  water.  Back 
of  its  central  railway  station  there  is  a  long  line  of 
docks  which  berth  the  boats  that  only  await  your 
patronage.  Here  you  may  board  the  large  river 
steamer  that  takes  you  to  Zaandam  in  half  an  hour 
for  the  price  of  one -half  of  one  Dutch  cent  a  min- 
ute; here  you  may  take  the  little  excursion  boats 
for  ports  along  the  Zuyder  Zee;  here  you  may  en- 
gage passage  to  Alkmaar  or  to  The  Helder  or  even 
to  Leeuwarden  or  Groningen  or  Zwolle,  situate  in 
that  unpenetrated  part  of  the  kingdom  which  may 
be  termed  the  hinterland  of  Holland;  and  here  you 
may  hire  a  private  yacht  or  motor  boat,  master  and 
all,  to  carry  you  whither  you  will  and  for  as  long 
as  you  wish  for  as  little  as  five  dollars  a  day  in- 
[123] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

elusive.  If  you  cross  the  arm  of  the  Zuyder  Zee 
they  call  the  Ij — much  easier  spelled  Y — by  ferry 
to  the  Tolhuis  you  have  only  to  board  the  steam  tram 
to  be  rattled  across  country  to  Alkmaar,  Edam,  or 
Volendam.  To  Haarlem  is  but  fifteen  minutes'  ride 
by  rail,  while  The  Hague  itself  is  only  an  hour's 
trip  in  the  schnell  zug,  Zandvoort,  on  the  North 
Sea,  is  served  by  electric  train  direct  from  Amster- 
dam, stopping  at  Haarlem  to  break  the  short  journey. 

A  favorite  excursion  for  a  summer's  evening  is  from 
Amsterdam  by  steamer  to  Zaandam,  the  most  typi- 
cally Dutch  of  all  Dutch  towns.  The  course  of 
the  steamer  leads  up  the  North  Sea  Canal  to  a 
point  a  little  beyond  the  Petroleum  Harbor  and 
then  turns  off  into  the  river  Zaan. 

It  is  in  the  North  Sea  Canal  that  Amsterdam 
places  her  only  hope  of  ever  being  able  to  compete 
with  Rotterdam  as  a  shipping  port.  With  its  fifteen 
miles  of  length,  its  sixty-five  to  one  hundred  and  ten 
yards  of  width,  and  its  thirty  feet  of  depth,  this 
canal  pierces  the  one-time  peninsula  of  North  Hol- 
land from  the  Zuyder  Zee  to  its  western  boundary, 
making  an  island  out  of  part  of  the  province  and 
placing  Amsterdam  in  direct  and  easy  communica- 
tion with  the  North  Sea.  An  "  A. P. "  gauge  along 
its  bank  would  prove  its  water  level  to  be  about 
twenty  inches  minus,  that  is,  twenty  inches  below 
the  mean  level  of  the  water  at  Amsterdam — the 
bench  mark  of  all  water  levels  throughout  Holland. 

[124] 


41 


Is 
ss 

•^ua 
3  « 


1 
I 

a 


EXCURSIONS    ABOUT    AMSTERDAM 

To  cut  such  a  canal  across  country  from  one  sea 
to  another  and  to  protect  it  at  either  end  with  im- 
mense breakwaters  and  lock  gates  has  cost  the  gov- 
ernment in  the  neighborhood  of  $18,000,000  and 
consumed  eleven  years  of  patient  labor.  Since  1895 
its  western  terminus  has  been  divided  into  two  out- 
lets, the  older  being  protected  by  a  lock  of  three 
openings,  while  the  more  recently  completed  branch, 
diverging  a  little  to  the  northward  from  the  main 
canal,  has  but  one  opening,  245  yards  long,  27  yards 
wide,  and  33  feet  deep. 

Zaandam  being  the  home  and  breeding  ground  of 
the  windmill,  a  bird's-eye  view  of  it  would  give  the 
effect  of  four  inverted  centipedes  kicking  in  their 
death  throes.  It  is  the  center  of  the  Dutch  lumber 
trade,  and  since  the  windmill  is  the  cheapest  method 
of  generating  the  power  that  any  lumber  trade  re- 
quires in  order  to  operate  its  sawmills,  Zaandam 
draws  from  the  breeze  what  we  conjure  from  steam. 
There  are  upwards  of  four  hundred  windmills  in  its 
immediate  vicinity.  Its  houses,  brightly  painted 
with  green,  red,  or  white,  and  surrounded  with 
pleasant  little  gardens,  gayly  reiterate  the  Dutch- 
man's delight  in  contrasts,  harmonious  or  otherwise. 

Another  of  Zaandam's  claims  to  the  consideration 
of  the  tourist  is  a  little  old  house  near  the  harbor, 
that  belongs,  not  to  any  resident  of  the  town,  nor 
to  any  man  in  Holland,  but  to  the  Czar  of  all  the 
Russias  personally.  It  is  the  house  which  Peter 
[125] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

the  Great  made  his  domestic  headquarters  for  a  brief 
week  in  the  year  1697  while,  as  tradition  has  it,  he 
studied  shipbuilding  incognito  in  Zaandam.  If  the 
villagers  had  not  made  themselves  so  pestiferously 
inquisitive  and  penetrated  his  disguise  a  few  days 
after  his  arrival  he  might  have  learned  a  lot  from 
Mynheer  Kalf,  under  whose  competent  tutelage  he 
apprenticed  himself  as  a  ship  carpenter;  but  the 
idlers  about  town  became  too  importunate  for  Peter. 
He  gave  up  his  position  at  the  end  of  a  week  and 
returned  to  Amsterdam. 

Volendam,  on  the  west  coast  of  the  Zuyder  Zee, 
and  the  little  Island  of  Marken,  just  opposite,  are 
the  two  most  advertised  and,  therefore,  the  show 
places  in  the  tourist  territory  of  Holland  and  enjoy 
the  highest  patronage.  Both  are  being  rapidly  and 
ruthlessly  spoiled  in  consequence.  However,  as  these 
are  the  towns  easiest  of  access  from  Amsterdam 
that  have  retained  the  costumes  and  customs  which 
prevailed  hundreds  of  years  ago,  embellishing  both 
to  a  certain  degree  as  the  signs  of  the  times  dic- 
tate, one  feels  it  his  solemn  duty,  almost,  to  go  there. 
If  the  gentle  reader  has  been  to  Amsterdam  and  has 
weathered  the  many  appeals  to  make  a  day's  trip 
to  Volendam  and  Marken  we  should  like  to  have 
him  raise  his  hand,  please,  so  that  we  may  inquire 
as  to  the  cause  and  effect  of  his  superb  indifference. 
It  would  be  worth  noting  in  the  minutes  of  any 
travel  club. 

[126] 


EXCURSIONS  ABOUT  AMSTERDAM 

The  head  porter  of  your  hotel  in  Amsterdam — 
a  sort  of  unproclaimed  passenger  agent  himself — 
will  try  to  sell  you  a  round  trip  ticket  to  Volendam 
and  Marken  in  one  of  the  many  parties,  each  at- 
tended by  a  conductor,  which  leave  every  morning 
and  return  every  evening  during  the  season.  But, 
if  you  will  bear  a  personal  opinion,  that  which  is 
interesting  under  the  guidance  of  the  prosaic  con- 
ductor is  twice  as  interesting  to  explore  by  yourself. 
Start  as  early  as  you  choose,  if  you  can,  and  get 
back  when  you  can,  if  you  choose,  is  the  best  advice 
I  am  able  to  utter  with  regard  to  travel  through  any 
country  in  the  world — and,  on  account  of  its  many 
facilities  for  getting  about  and  the  comparative 
meagerness  of  the  territory  involved,  it  is  especially 
applicable  to  Holland. 

Except  to  obtain  a  comprehensive  view  of  the  great 
dam  at  the  mouth  of  the  Y,  a  mile  and  a  quarter 
in  length,  which  protects  the  more  delicate  construc- 
tion of  the  North  Sea  Canal  from  the  ravages  of  the 
Zuyder  Zee,  the  trip  to  Marken  made  by  this  route 
offers  little  compensation.  The  same  view  can  be 
had  if  you  will  take  the  electric  car  from  in  front 
of  the  station  in  Amsterdam  to  the  St.  Anthonis  Dyk 
and  walk  a  short  distance  across  to  the  locks  at  the 
Oranjesluizen  near  the  north  end  of  the  embank- 
ment. The  five  openings  at  this  point  of  the  great 
breakwater  permit  the  entrance  and  exit  of  vessels 
and  regulate  the  depth  of  water  in  the  canals.  Out 
[127] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

of  a  total  of  fifty-six  lock  gates  twenty-two  are  con- 
structed of  iron. 

Then,  too,  there  seems  to  be  no  stability  about 
the  weather  in  Holland,  and  a  voyage  up  the  Zuyder 
Zee  in  a  cold,  drizzling  rain  does  not  encourage 
a  pleasant  afterthought  of  the  excursion.  Upon  one 
trip  I  made  up  the  Zee  in  the  middle  of  summer  the 
climate  was  of  about  the  same  temperature  as  that 
of  a  Christmas  in  Spitzbergen. 

A  much  more  satisfactory  route  by  which  to  tap 
these  towns  is  the  steam  tramway  line  through  Mon- 
nikendam  and  Edam,  the  method  of  procedure  in  this 
case  being  to  take  the  ferry  from  the  end  of  the 
Damrak  near  the  station  in  Amsterdam  to  the  Tol- 
huis,  or  old  customhouse,  across  the  Y. 

Here  near  the  Tolhuis  is  the  southern  entrance  to 
the  North  Holland  Canal,  with  its  great  lock  gates — 
a  channel  which  simplifies  the  boat  voyage  between 
Amsterdam  and  the  Helder,  penetrating  almost  the 
entire  length  of  the  province  of  North  Holland,  a 
distance  of  forty-five  miles  or  more,  and  dividing 
into  two  the  island  already  made  by  the  North  Sea 
Canal.  A  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  width  and 
sixteen  feet  in  depth,  it  was  constructed  a  half  cen- 
tury before  its  North  Sea  predecessor  at  a  cost  of 
about  $4,000,000,  and  its  water  level  at  Buiksloot, 
the  first  little  station  on  the  tram  line,  about  a  mile 
from  the  Tolhuis,  is  as  much  as  ten  feet  below  that 
of  the  sea  at  half  tide. 


EXCURSIONS  ABOUT  AMSTERDAM 

Broek,  a  little  farther  along  near  the  tram  line, 
is  reputed  to  be  the  cleanest  town  in  the  world,  and 
I  have  not  the  least  doubt  that  its  reputation  is  well 
deserved.  But  its  motive  is  ill  chosen:  it  is  clean 
for  a  purpose.  By  its  cleanliness  it  attracts  visitors, 
and  so  it  can  scarcely  be  reckoned  as  a  criterion  by 
which  to  judge  the  other  towns  of  Holland.  No 
doubt  it  was  clean  long  before  it  ever  had  any  visitors, 
but  since  the  tourists  commenced  to  hear  about  its 
hypertrophied  spotlessness,  they  began  to  visit  it; 
now  the  more  visitors  it  has  the  cleaner  it  becomes. 
Like  a  duck,  it  is  preening  itself  continuously  from 
dawn  till  dark. 

From  Monnikendam  you  may  take  steamer  direct 
for  the  Island  of  Marken,  but  it  will  be  more  to 
your  comfort  to  join  the  steamer  in  Marken  and 
return  through  the  canals  to  Amsterdam  by  way 
of  Monnikendam.  Such  a  procedure,  however,  is 
dependent  upon  the  steamer  captain's  consent  to  the 
proposition;  for  the  boats  that  ply  this  route  carry 
excursionists  exclusively,  so  that  even  if  the  captain 
can  be  induced  to  accept  you  as  a  passenger  you 
may  have  to  pay  the  full  fare  for  the  trip  from 
Amsterdam  to  Marken  and  return. 

Once — about  three  and  a  half  centuries  ago — 
Monnikendam  was  included  in  the  list  of  the  most 
important  towns  in  Holland.  In  its  halcyon  days 
its  money  chests  contained  enough  bullion  to 
provide  for  the  outfitting  of  a  fleet  which  it  sent 
[129] 


WINDMILLS  AND  WOODEN   SHOES 

under  spreading  canvas  up  the  coast  to  Hoorn,  to 
demonstrate  to  the  skeptics  that  a  Spanish  admiral 
could  be  captured  in  battle,  if  only  the  scheme  were 
handled  in  the  proper  manner.  Long  since  has  Mon- 
nikendam  been  relegated  to  the  so-called  "  dead 
city  "  class.  It  is  almost  too  sleepy  to  keep  awake 
in  the  daytime,  arousing  but  once  a  year  from  its 
perennial  slumber:  when  Amsterdam  comes  on  skates 
to  hold  an  ice  carnival. 

Back  somewhere  in  the  fourteenth  century,  when 
the  only  maritime  means  of  access  to  Amsterdam 
was  down  the  Zuyder  Zee,  Edam  held  the  strategical 
position  of  being  its  picket  port.  Since  those  good 
old  days  its  25,000  population  has  depreciated  four 
fifths  in  numbers.  Were  it  not  for  its  brand  of 
cheese,  flourishing  before  the  gastronomic  world  a 
perpetual  advertisement  of  the  place,  Edam  would 
soon  find  itself  mentioned  in  the  same  breath  with 
Broek  and  Monnikendam.  It  has  a  fourteenth  cen- 
tury Gothic  Groote  Kerk,  tremendous  in  comparison 
with  its  population,  and  a  Town  Hall  in  which  are 
preserved  the  portraits  of  four  or  five  erstwhile  citi- 
zens of  Edam,  the  respective  virtues  of  whom  its 
present  inhabitants  still  like  to  mention  as  if  they 
bore  some  weight  upon  the  town's  past  prosperity. 

One  of  these  local  celebrities  was  a  man  of  the 
name  of  Osterlen,  who,  in  the  1680's,  could  boast 
about  a  merchant  fleet  of  his  own  numbering  ninety- 
two  sail.  Three  of  the  others  were  Trijntje,  Peter, 

[130] 


EXCURSIONS   ABOUT   AMSTERDAM 

and  Jan.  Tri j  nt j  e  ( the  diminutive  in  this  case  must 
have  been  merely  a  matter  of  irony)  was  said  to 
have  been  nine  feet  in  height  and  of  proportionate 
width;  Peter  grew  an  ambiguous  beard  the  dimen- 
sions of  which  required  it  to  be  tied  into  a  knot  in 
order  to  save  it  from  being  stepped  on  by  its  master ; 
and  Jan,  an  immigrant  from  Friesland  who  later  pro- 
cured papers  of  naturalization  in  Edam — a  "  ringer  " 
we  should  have  called  him  in  small  town  baseball  par- 
lance— Jan's  net  tonnage  was  four  hundred  and  fifty- 
four  pounds  on  the  date  when  he  launched  himself 
into  the  forty-second  year  of  his  life. 

At  Edam  you  will  scramble  into  a  little  sailboat  to 
be  propelled  by  the  breeze  down  the  canal  for  a  mile 
or  more  to  Volendam.  Each  side  of  the  ditch — it 
isn't  much  more,  if  judged  by  its  width;  neither  is 
its  odor  any  sweeter — is  bordered  by  low-lying  fields 
populated  with  the  black  and  white  bovines  directly 
responsible  for  the  principal  industry  of  that  section. 
They  look  docile  enough  at  a  distance,  these  cows 
of  North  Holland,  and  they  probably  are  at  close 
range,  when  it  comes  to  showing  the  proper  deference 
due  an  unmolesting  human  being,  but  they  are  notori- 
ous for  their  biased  aversion  to  dogs.  The  dog  seems 
to  be  their  time-honored  and  ancient  enemy,  and  the 
mere  presence  of  one  in  the  field  can  cause  a  deal 
of  agitation.  If  its  owner  accompanies  the  dog  he 
may  be  expected  to  commence  a  Dutch  Marathon 
almost  any  minute,  because,  at  sight  of  him?  the  cow 

[131] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

will  foreclose  with  the  canine  and  open  speedy  nego- 
tiations with  the  owner.  I  have  been  told  that  it  is 
unsafe  even  to  walk  along  the  canal  bank  with  a 
dog,  for  only  during  last  summer  one  staid  old 
burgher  of  Volendam,  in  so  doing,  was  hooked  to 
death,  and  two  ladies  of  Edam,  while  taking  an 
evening  walk,  had  to  be  hustled  into  a  passing  sail- 
boat and  pushed  out  from  shore  to  escape  a  similar 
fate. 

Every  ten  feet  or  so,  it  seems,  someone  will  be 
fishing,  for  fishing,  more  than  any  other,  appears 
to  be  the  national  sport  of  Holland.  No  self-re- 
specting fish  would  live  in  some  of  the  canals  they 
fish  in,  but  certain  species  must  be  able  to  survive 
their  density  else  the  proverbial  Dutch  patience  would 
be  soon  exhausted. 

The  most  odoriferous  point  along  the  canal  from 
Edam  to  Volendam  is  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of 
a  duck  farm  just  near  the  journey's  end.  These 
ducks  are  the  amphibious  flies  in  the  amber  of  what 
is  otherwise  transparently  picturesque.  They  are 
farmed  throughout  Holland,  but  only  for  their  eggs, 
which,  being  too  strong  even  for  the  Dutchman  to 
relish,  are  sent  to  the  more  cosmopolitan  cities  or 
exported  into  the  foreign  pastry  kitchens. 

Volendam,  by  reason  of  the  curious  costuming  of 

its  inhabitants,  its  quaint,  narrow  main  street,  high 

above  the  doorsteps  of  the  bordering  brick  houses, 

and   its   picturesque   fishing   fleet,   is    the   haven   of 

[132] 


EXCURSIONS   ABOUT   AMSTERDAM 

artists  of  all  nationalities.  One  of  the  most  interest- 
ing picture  galleries  in  the  Netherlands  comprises 
the  public  rooms  of  the  Hotel  Spaander,  hung  with 
sketches,  more  or  less  frivolous,  and  finished  works, 
more  or  less  serious,  done  spontaneously  by  the  hands 
of  such  illustrators  and  painters  as  Phil  May,  Will 
Owen,  Edward  Penfield,  William  Chase,  and  Burne- 
Jones.  The  back  yard  of  the  hotel,  which,  without 
the  least  excuse,  it  advertises  as  an  "  attractive  gar- 
den," is  fringed  with  old  buildings,  each  roof  ex- 
changed within  the  comparative  recent  development 
of  the  town  as  an  art  center  for  the  skylight  of  the 
unmistakable  studio. 

Sunday,  by  all  odds,  is  the  most  advantageous  day 
of  the  week  to  visit  Volendam.  Then  are  the  dresses 
of  its  women  folk  and  the  breeches  of  its  men,  copious 
as  meal  sacks,  garnished  with  the  jewelry  and  the 
silver  buckles  respectively  which  have  been  handed 
down  as  heirlooms  from  mother  to  daughter,  from 
father  to  son,  even  unto  the  third  and  fourth  genera- 
tions. Then  is  the  fishing  fleet  jammed  together  in 
the  little  harbor  to  spend  its  accustomed  week  end 
of  lethargy,  each  masthead  flying  its  long,  narrow 
pennant — a  sight  which  from  a  distance  might  be 
mistaken  for  a  hibernating  flock  of  wild  fowl.  You 
would  have  to  use  a  rifle  with  an  elbow  in  its  barrel 
to  be  able  to  shoot  through  this  patch  of  pine  forest 
with  its  top  cut  off  without  puncturing  one  mast 
at  least.  On  other  days  of  the  week  Volendam's 
[133] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

citizens  are  preoccupied  with  whatever  they  have  to 
attend  to,  but  on  Sunday  they  stand  around  and 
pose  gracefully  and  easily  for  the  commendation  of 
the  visiting  public. 

The  garb  of  the  male  Volendamer  is  about  as 
characteristic  as  any  regalia  in  Holland.  His  round, 
flat-crowned  cap  permits  the  exposure  of  its  owner's 
bronzed  and  finely  cut  features.  He  wears  a  loosely 
tied  scarf  about  his  neck,  and  his  shirt  or  jersey 
usually  displays  a  large  patch  cut  from  another  shirt 
or  jersey  regardless  of  any  probable  ambition  to 
match  the  patterns.  Whenever  and  wherever  the 
garment  wears  out,  then  and  there  it  is  patched,  and 
by  their  patches  ye  shall  know  them;  that  is,  you 
can  come  within  measurable  proximity  of  telling  the 
daily  duties  of  every  man  by  the  position  of  his 
patches.  One  will  have  a  livid  green  patch  down 
the  collar  bone  of  a  dark  maroon  jersey ;  another  will 
display  a  different  colored  sleeve  from  the  elbow 
down.  The  Volendamer's  trousers  extend  in  a  south- 
erly direction  to  the  tops  of  the  ankles  only,  and 
are  built  with  a  voluminously  exaggerated  peg-top 
effect,  so  much  so  that  each  cavernous  side  pocket 
must  hold  at  least  a  peck,  and  to  be  able  to  find 
with  any  degree  of  proficiency  such  an  insignificant 
article  as  a  penknife  in  its  depths,  the  wearer  would 
have  to  go  into  early  training  as  a  contortionist. 
Week  days  he  wears  klompen,  or  the  ordinary  poplar- 
wood  shoes,  which  may  be  used  for  as  many  different 

[i34] 


EXCURSIONS  ABOUT  AMSTERDAM 

and  distinct  purposes  as  the  owner's  ingenuity  may 
contrive — such  as  amusing  the  little  tots  by  sailing 
a  klomp  across  the  canal  as  a  boat,  or  tying  one 
on  the  end  of  a  rod  and  offering  it  to  the  canal  boat 
master  as  a  receptacle  in  which  to  drop  the  toll 
as  he  poles  his  barge  through  the  locks.  The  vrouw 
sees  that  her  "  man "  removes  his  klompen  before 
he  dares  enter  the  house,  and  upon  each  doorstep 
you  will  invariably  behold  one  or  more  pairs,  in- 
cluding, perhaps,  those  of  a  visitor  in  the  kitchen 
paying  his  respects  in  his  stocking  feet.  On  Sun- 
days, however,  the  more  fastidious  Volendamer  will 
break  the  monotony  by  changing  the  klompen  for 
the  more  genteel-looking  low,  leather,  pump-like 
slippers. 

The  most  distinguishable  feature  of  the  Volendam 
feminine  attire  from  that  found  on  the  Island  of 
Walcheren  or  at  Scheveningen,  for  example,  is  the 
immaculate  white  cap,  somewhat  of  the  shape  of  a 
miniature  miter,  terminating  at  the  sides  in  two 
stiffly  starched  points  that  curl  out  from  the  ears 
like  the  horns  of  a  water  buffalo.  The  hair  is  cropped 
close  and,  according  to  the  prevailing  rules  of  de- 
corum, only  a  fringe  of  it  is  allowed  to  be  visible. 
Never  under  any  conditions  should  a  man  see  an 
unmarried  member  of  Volendam's  gentler  sex  with 
her  head  uncovered. 

Over  in  Marken  the  proper  thing  to  do  to  com- 
plete the  delusion  is  to  allow  one  of  the  many  chil- 
[135] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

dren  who  pester  the  passengers  upon  landing  from 
the  boat  to  lead  you  to  his  home,  reimbursing  him 
financially  to  the  extent  demanded — not  a  very  vast 
sum,  in  any  event.  It  will  be  a  scrupulously  clean 
little  place  of  one,  and  not  often  more  than  two 
rooms.  It  will  contain  the  usual  amount  of  brass 
work  and  a  nondescript  collection  of  Delft  ware. 
The  floor  will  be  brick,  the  fireplace  will  have  its 
ingle  nooks,  and  its  pot  of  whatever-it-is  suspended 
over  the  fire  from  a  crane,  will  be  simmering  gently. 
In  the  side  walls  will  be  built  the  sleeping  accommo- 
dations, like  bunks  on  a  ship,  draped  with  curtains 
at  night  and  closed  to  view — and  air — in  the  day- 
time by  means  of  paneled  wooden  doors.  This  will 
be  about  all  to  see  in  Marken,  and  you  will  be  happy 
enough  to  be  led  back  to  the  boat  to  escape  further 
mercenary  moves  on  the  part  of  the  populace. 

The  shirt  of  the  male  Markener  can  show  as  many 
patches  as  that  of  the  male  Volendamer,  but  instead 
of  the  little  round  cap  he  sees  fit  to  favor  a  sort  of 
derby  hat  having  a  two-inch  crown.  His  breeches 
are  of  the  knickerbocker  type,  but  still  very  much 
peg-topped,  and  his  Mompen  are  sometimes  varnished 
yellow  and  carved  in  more  or  less  delicate  tracery. 
Unlike  those  of  Volendam,  the  women  of  Marken 
let  the  hair  grow,  plaiting  it  into  two  braids  which 
hang  down,  one  from  each  ear,  in  defiance  to  any 
custom  that  may  obtain  across  on  the  mainland. 

[136] 


ALKMAAR   AND    THE   HELDER 

IT  is  as  imperative  that  the  traveler  through  Hol- 
land should  journey  from  Amsterdam  to  Alk- 
maar  by  canal  as  it  is  that  he  should  not  overlook 
the  steam  tram  trip  between  The  Hague  and  Leyden. 
The  twenty-four  and  a  half  miles  between  the 
commercial  metropolis  and  the  cheese  capital  of 
North  Holland  is  made  in  a  little  less  than  three 
hours.  Taking  all  things  into  consideration,  it  is 
one  of  the  most  enjoyable  steamboat  excursions  in 
the  kingdom.  Bearing  up  through  the  North  Sea 
Canal  and  the  River  Zaan,  the  packet  makes  its  first 
stop  at  Zaandam ;  then  on  up  the  river  it  winds  be- 
tween the  bristling  windmills,  turns  from  one  canal 
into  another,  crosses  a  small  lake,  and  finally  nego- 
tiates the  waterway  that  leads  eventually  to  Alkmaar. 
The  polders  on  either  hand  are  far  below  the  level 
of  the  water  you  are  steaming  over,  so  that  you  see 
no  more  than  the  tops  of  the  farmhouses.  Although 
the  wake  of  the  passing  boat  rattles  the  reeds  along 
the  banks,  the  fishermen  concealed  here  and  there 
among  them  seem  not  the  least  perturbed,  but  con- 
tinue to  fish  with  all  their  might  and  main,  allowing 

[i37] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

the  steamer  to  play  what  havoc  it  will  with  the  move- 
ments and  inclinations  of  their  prey. 

Alkmaar,  and  not  Edam,  is  the  geographical  and 
industrial  center  of  the  cheese  trade  of  North  Hol- 
land, and  the  cheese  market  is  the  geographical  and 
industrial  center  of  Alkmaar.  To  give  some  idea 
of  the  length  of  time  they  have  been  marketing 
cheeses  in  Alkmaar  you  will  be  told  upon  inquiry 
that  the  town  weigh-house  was  constructed  in  1582, 
and  for  no  other  purpose  than  to  weigh  the  cheeses 
bought  and  sold  at  the  weekly  market.  To  give 
some  idea  of  the  town's  importance  as  a  cheese  cen- 
ter, the  astonishing  number  of  forty-odd  million 
pounds  of  round,  golden  cheeses  are  bargained  for 
at  the  side  of  the  weigh-house  in  every  twelve  months. 

In  addition  to  the  weigh-house  the  town  boasts 
of  but  few  historically  remunerative  objects  of  in- 
terest. There  is  the  old  Church  of  St.  Lawrence, 
built  in  1470,  the  surrounding  walls  and  buttresses 
of  which  protect  a  part  of  the  eminent  remains  of 
Floris  V,  Count  of  Holland  and  builder  of  the  Hall 
of  the  Knights  at  The  Hague,  although  why  they 
were  interred  at  such  a  distance  to  the  north  of  the 
scenes  of  his  activity  is  a  matter  of  some  conjecture; 
there  are  a  few  relics  and  mediocre  paintings  on 
show  in  the  Municipal  Museum ;  and  there  is  the  old 
water  gate  that  seems  to  forbid  any  farther  penetra- 
tion into  the  town  on  the  part  of  the  packet  from 
Amsterdam.  In  history  Alkmaar  played  its  solemn 

[138] 


ALKMAAR   AND   THE  HELDER 

role  by  making  a  stubborn  and  ultimately  successful 
resistance  against  the  besieging  Spaniards  in  1573. 
Five  to  one  were  the  odds  against  which  the  burghers 
fought  and,  as  at  Leyden,  the  water  of  the  ocean 
was  the  all-powerful  lever  that  rewarded  the  besieged 
and  routed  the  besiegers. 

As  early  as  daybreak  the  Friday  visitor — for 
Friday  is  cheese  day  in  Alkmaar — will  find  plenty  of 
activity  in  the  vicinity  of  the  town  weigh-house. 
It  is  therefore  advisable  to  reach  the  place  the  pre- 
vious Thursday  evening,  because  the  unloading  of 
the  cheeses  and  the  stacking  of  them  upon  the  stone 
pavement  of  the  market  square  during  the  early  hours 
of  the  following  morning  are  among  the  most  in- 
teresting phases  of  the  whole  proceeding.  And  so, 
by  daylight  on  Friday,  gayly  painted  farm  wagons 
from  the  surrounding  country  already  fringe  three 
sides  of  the  market,  and  every  one  of  them  is  dis- 
gorging, two  at  a  time,  its  load  of  golden  cheeses. 
On  the  canal  that  bounds  the  fourth  side  of  the 
square  lie  berthed  a  double  row  of  long,  narrow  boats, 
also  loaded  from  keel  plate  to  hatch  cover  with  the 
product  of  the  district.  From  every  point  of  the 
compass  cheeses  are  being  tossed  through  the  air 
from  the  wagons  and  boats,  only  to  have  their  flight 
checked  with  a  smack  by  the  men  who  catch  them 
and  pile  them  upon  the  pavement  in  long,  double- 
decked  rows,  ten  cheeses  in  width.  Later,  canvas 
is  thrown  over  the  piles  to  protect  the  cheeses  from 

[i39] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

the  rays  of  the  sun  until  it  is  time  for  the  cheese 
makers  and  the  wholesale  commission  merchants  from 
the  cities,  soon  to  descend  upon  the  scene,  to  com- 
mence their  dickerings.  All  through  the  early  morn- 
ing this  unloading  continues,  its  accompanying 
smacks  to  be  heard  half  a  block  away,  until  perhaps 
250,000  cheeses  have  been  piled  up  in  neat  rows 
with  alleyways  between  them,  across  the  market 
square  from  one  edge  to  the  other. 

At  half-past  nine,  half  an  hour  before  the  market 
opens,  the  weighmen,  all  garbed  in  immaculate  white, 
meet  in  executive  session  in  the  weigh-house  and 
absorb  a  ceremonious  talking-to  by  the  superinten- 
dent of  the  market — probably  upon  the  subject  of 
honest  weights  and  the  penalties  to  be  imposed  upon 
the  unfortunate  man  caught  trifling  with  the  rules  and 
regulations  of  the  game. 

These  weighmen  constitute  a  distinct  feature  of 
every  cheese  market  in  Holland.  Their  dress  may 
seem  ludicrous  and  their  duties  a  bit  undignified, 
but  they  go  about  their  calling  with  all  the  seriousness 
of  statesmen.  Until  recently  they  were  divided,  one 
might  say,  into  four  colors:  red,  blue,  green,  and 
yellow,  as  distinguished  by  their  hat  bands.  Latterly, 
a  fifth  color,  orange,  has  been  added.  In  the  weigh- 
house  there  are  five  pairs  of  scales,  each  pair  painted 
a  different  color  corresponding  to  the  colors  of  the 
weighmen.  The  "red"  weighmen  must  weigh  their 
barrowfuls  of  cheeses  upon  the  "  red "  scales ;  the 

[140] 


ALKMAAR   AND    THE  HELDER 

"blue"  weighmen,  upon  the  "blue"  scales,  and  so 
on.  An  Alkmaar  cheese  weighman  holds  a  life  posi- 
tion, is  elected  by  the  community,  and  receives  in 
commissions  a  certain  percentage,  determined  by  the 
value  of  the  cheeses,  of  each  hundred  kilos  weighed, 
or  fraction  thereof. 

At  ten  o'clock  promptly  the  heavy  sheets  of  canvas 
are  dragged  from  the  piles.  The  market  is  thus 
officially  opened,  and  for  the  ensuing  two  hours  the 
visitor  will  be  treated  to  some  of  the  shrewdest  of 
shrewd  Dutch  bargaining.  The  stolid,  unemotional 
makers  of  cheeses  stand  doggedly  by  their  respective 
piles,  while  the  crafty  wholesale  merchants  flit  hither 
and  yon  testing.  Not  a  word  passes  between  them 
other  than  a  surly  "  how  d'  y'  do  "  in  Dutch.  The 
merchant  selects  a  cheese  at  random,  jams  into  it  an 
instrument  that  any  competent  housewife  might  mis- 
take for  an  apple  corer,  gives  it  a  twist,  pulls  it  out 
slowly,  and  tastes  the  end  of  the  sample  thus  taken. 
What  remains  of  the  sample  is  drawn  from  the  in- 
strument, slipped  back  into  the  parent  cheese,  and 
the  tester  moves  along  to  attack  another  pile. 

At  the  end  of  an  hour  every  merchant  on  the 
ground  will  have  tested  and  tasted  every  pile  of 
cheeses — in  itself  no  small  saporific  achievement.  Not 
only  will  he  have  used  the  taste  test  on  the  different 
piles,  but  he  will  have  called  upon  his  other  four 
senses  to  confirm  or  countervail  its  decision.  He 
will  have  examined  cheeses  by  sight;  he  will  have 

[141] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

held  them  to  his  ear  and  shaken  them,  as  we  might 
an  egg;  he  will  have  felt  of  the  weight  and  solidity 
of  them ;  and  he  will  have  taken  long,  knowing  whiffs 
of  their  fragrance.  At  the  end  of  an  hour,  then, 
he  is  qualified  to  approach  this  or  that  particular 
dealer  and  offer  him  so  much  per  hundred  kilos  for 
his  cheeses.  Then  it  is  that  Greek  meets  Greek.  In 
a  moment's  time  the  dull-looking,  uncommunicative, 
apparently  unconcerned  provincial  maker  of  cheese 
seems  to  be  transformed  into  a  cunning,  canny,  clear- 
headed man  of  business.  The  two  of  them,  merchant 
and  maker,  stand  for  a  full  minute  with  their  right 
hands  outstretched,  like  a  picture  of  Captain  John 
Smith  sealing  a  treaty  with  the  Indians.  Suppose 
the  maker  finally  agrees  to  the  price  offered:  with- 
out uttering  a  syllable  he  grips  the  hand  of  the  mer- 
chant, and  the  bargain  is  closed.  If  he  does  not 
agree,  he  slaps  the  merchant's  hand  a  whack  that 
resounds  across  the  square.  By  eleven-fifteen  the 
walls  of  the  surrounding  houses  reverberate  with 
what  a  stranger  around  the  corner  might  easily  sup- 
pose to  be  the  premature  explosion  of  a  number  of 
toy  balloons — for  cheese  makers  are  but  human  and 
would  rather  wait  in  the  hope  of  being  offered  more 
for  their  stock.  Competition  is  the  essence  of  trade, 
even  in  Holland. 

When  a  bargain  is  negotiated,  they  call  a  pair  of 
weighmen  who  load  the  cheeses  upon  a  barrow — a 
queer  kind  of  barrow  that  resembles  more  a  stretcher 

[142] 


ALKMAAR   AND   THE    HELDER 

on  sled  runners — and  carry  them  to  the  scales  to 
be  weighed.  After  being  weighed  and  their  sale  re- 
corded upon  the  books  of  the  superintendent,  the 
cheeses  are  loaded  back  into  the  wagons  and  boats 
to  be  transferred  to  the  warehouse  for  shipment. 

The  cheese  goes  through  no  further  preliminaries 
if  intended  for  native  consumption.  If  destined  for 
export,  however,  it  must  needs  undergo  a  peculiar, 
yet  withal  a  simple  process :  it  must  be  well  scraped 
and  painted  over  with  a  thin  aniline  dye  which 
rapidly  turns  as  it  dries  to  a  glorious  vermilion. 
The  scraping  is  done  by  machinery,  but  the  dyeing 
is  done  by  hand  and  with  almost  incredible  swiftness 
by  the  men  employed  in  some  of  the  establishments 
in  Alkmaar. 

The  question  was  asked  if  the  dyeing  assisted  in 
the  preservation  of  the  cheese  or  helped  to  keep  it 
immune  from  mould  or  corrodings.  Not  at  all.  The 
ultimate  consumer  across  the  seas  would  turn  up 
his  nose  at  an  un-dyed  cheese  and  snub  it  as  a 
cheap  imitation.  The  foreign  public  demands  that 
the  genuine  North  Holland  cheese  bear  a  distinctive 
hall-mark.  That  hall-mark  is  its  coat  of  red  dye. 
Since  this  province  probably  supplies  a  good  three- 
fifths  of  the  55,000  tons  of  cheese  exported  in  a 
single  year  the  reader  can  imagine  what  a  deal  of 
red  dye  it  takes  to  satisfy  a  foreign  fancy. 

A  distance  of  thirty  miles  or  more  north  of  Alk- 
maar lies  The  Helder,  figuratively  the  top  of  the 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

kingdom.  Geographically,  it  is  only  in  the  same 
latitude  as  the  most  northerly  point  of  Newfound- 
land at  the  Straits  of  Belle  Isle,  and  so  there  are 
plenty  of  towns  over  in  Friesland  and  Groningen 
that  lie  still  farther  to  the  north,  but  these  do  not 
have  the  conditions  to  contend  with  that  does  The 
Helder.  Surrounded  on  three  sides  by  the  waters 
of  the  Zuyder  Zee  and  the  North  Sea,  The  Helder 
assumes  much  of  the  responsibility  of  protecting  the 
whole  province  of  North  Holland  from  a  general  and 
disastrous  inundation.  More  than  any  other  part 
of  the  province,  indeed  of  all  Holland,  it  is  exposed 
to  the  ravages  of  the  most  violent  winds,  which  kick 
the  sea  into  a  maelstrom  and  pound  it  with  re- 
lentless fury  upon  the  coast  line. 

Here  at  The  Helder  may  be  found  the  finest  fruits 
of  that  "  big  story  "  of  Holland :  the  constant  battle 
of  mere  man  against  an  all  but  omnipotent  element — 
water;  the  romantic,  persistent,  patient  strife  of  the 
Hollander  to  insure  as  much  as  possible  his  own 
safety  and  that  of  the  land  which  he  has  weaned 
from  the  sea  from  utter  and  inexorable  annihilation. 
If  for  nothing  else,  it  is  for  this  "big  story"  that 
one  should  go  to  The  Helder.  If  the  traveler  through 
Holland  has  not  been  already  duly  impressed  with 
the  silent,  continuous  fight  of  the  Dutch  for  mere 
existence,  he  will  return  from  this  northernmost  prom- 
ontory of  North  Holland  with  augmented  faith  in 
the  ingenuity  and  dogged  perseverance  of  the  men 


.S 


_    o 

"     43 


bo -g 
3  Q 


H 

•t-i 
< 


ALKMAAR    AND    THE    HELDER 

who  have  made  a  country  out  of  what  once  was  sea 
bottom. 

The  foregoing  preamble  is  meant  to  prepare  the 
traveler  to  appreciate  The  Helder.  If  it  fails  in 
its  mission,  it  may  be  all  for  the  best,  because  the 
unanticipated  often  strikes  with  the  greatest  degree 
of  accuracy  and  forcefulness  and  brands  the  experi- 
ence upon  the  mind,  never  to  be  obliterated. 

Disembarking  from  the  train,  you  will  turn  in- 
stinctively to  the  north  through  a  wide  avenue — a 
veritable  tunnel  through  the  trees.  After  crossing 
the  drawbridge  that  spans  the  canal  at  the  end  of 
the  avenue,  you  must  turn  abruptly  to  the  left.  The 
first  cross  street — little  more  than  an  alleyway  be- 
tween the  houses — is  barricaded  at  its  farther  ex- 
tremity by  a  steep,  grass-grown  embankment  that 
towers  almost  to  the  same  altitude  as  the  chimney 
pots  of  the  house  tops  below.  A  flight  of  thirty- 
one  steps  ascends  to  the  top  of  this  peculiar  em- 
bankment and  you  scramble  up,  expecting  to  behold 
on  the  other  side  a  view  of — you  scarcely  know  what. 
You  are  surprised  to  discover  that  the  view  is  a 
sea-scape,  for,  if  you  have  failed  to  observe  The 
Helder's  lofty  lighthouse,  it  has  not  been  suggested 
to  you  that  the  sea  is  anywhere  in  the  neighborhood. 

You  will  be  standing  on  the  top  of  one  of  the 

greatest  and  strongest  dikes  in  Holland,  its  business 

side  stretching  away  before  you  at  an  angle  of  forty 

degrees    for   two   hundred    feet   into   the    Strait    of 

[145] 


WINDMILLS  AND  WOODEN   SHOES 

Marsdiep.  Extending  a  total  distance  of  five  miles 
in  the  arc  of  a  circle,  this,  then,  is  the  sloping-  buttress 
that  North  Holland  relies  upon  for  its  very  life.  A 
severe  storm  will  lash  the  water  of  the  strait  into 
spray,  and  fling  it  across  into  the  windows  of  the 
bordering  houses,  but  the  highest  of  tides  cannot 
come  over  the  backbone  of  the  dike,  while  at  all 
times  the  water  laps  restlessly  at  its  foundations. 
The  top  of  the  dike  is  mounted  with  a  roadway  twelve 
feet  in  width.  Some  feet  above  the  water  line  at 
low  tide  the  tops  of  great  stone  breakwaters,  like  the 
ribs  of  a  dinosaur,  stretch  seaward  at  regular  in- 
tervals. The  whole  of  this  remarkable  artificial 
coast  is  constructed  of  Norwegian  granite. 

Upon  the  summits  of  a  few  sand  dunes  that  raise 
themselves  here  and  there  behind  the  dike  the  Dutch 
have  completed  the  construction  of  some  rather  crude 
military  fortifications  which  Napoleon  commenced 
in  1811.  But  improvements  upon  them  are  going 
on  apace,  for  Holland  is  not  exactly  anxious  to 
suffer  an  experience  with  regard  to  her  string  of 
islands  in  the  north,  in  furthering  German  aggran- 
dizement as  did  the  Danes  of  Helgoland  before  the 
gun  muzzles  of  the  British  in  1807. 

The  single  point  of  North  Holland,  however,  most 
exposed  to  sea  encroachments  is  a  few  miles  south 
of  The  Helder  on  the  North  Sea.  Here  there  is  a 
chain  of  three  great  dikes,  one  beyond  the  other, 
named  significantly,  beginning  with  the  one  farthest 

[146] 


ALKMAAR   AND    THE    HELDER 

from  the  shore,  "  The  Waker,"  "  The  Dreamer,"  and 
"The  Sleeper."  Still  farther  to  the  south,  on  the 
same  side  of  the  province,  are  the  great  sand  dunes, 
three  miles  in  width  in  some  places,  under  the  pro- 
tection of  which  the  freight  boats  from  Amsterdam 
creep  to  their  destinations  along  the  North  Sea 
Canal. 

Off  the  northern  dunes  the  combined  English  and 
French  fleets  of  war  suffered  defeat  at  the  hands 
of  the  Dutch  admirals,  de  Ruyter  and  Tromp,  two 
hundred  thirty-eight  years  ago  to  the  day,  as  I 
write  (the  21st  of  August),  and  in  September,  1799, 
two  armies  of  10,000  and  13,000,  English  and  Rus- 
sian troops  respectively,  commanded  by  the  Duke  of 
York,  landed  here  to  try  their  luck  at  tempting  the 
Dutch  to  revolt  against  the  French.  The  Russian 
forces  lost  their  way  and  were  defeated  by  the  French 
before  they  had  advanced  as  far  as  Alkmaar,  and 
the  British,  bearing  in  mind  the  comforting  old 
adage  about  discretion  being  the  best  part  of  valor, 
retreated  after  having  penetrated  as  far  south  as 
Castricum,  near  Zaandam. 

In  the  town  of  The  Helder  itself — why  they  refer 
to  it  as  "The"  Helder  I  do  not  know,  unless  it  be 
for  the  reason  that  the  article  makes  of  it  a  pseudo- 
nym for  a  Dutch  John  o'  Groats — in  the  town  itself 
there  is  little  of  interest.  One  street  I  have  in  mind, 
however,  which  is  of  rather  peculiar  construction. 
The  north  side  of  it,  from  the  middle  of  what  ought 
[147] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

to  be  the  common  roadway,  is  possibly  three  and  a 
half  feet  higher  than  its  south  side,  the  upper  part 
built  upon  an  embankment  faced  with  a  brick  wall. 

The  place  is  full  of  Dutch  sailors  and  navy  people, 
for  about  three  quarters  of  a  mile  down  the  dike 
lies  Nieuwediep,  the  Dutch  combination  of  Hampton 
Roads,  Annapolis,  and  the  Brooklyn  Navy  Yard. 
Situated  at  the  mouth  of  the  North  Holland  Canal, 
Nieuwediep  is  the  most  important  naval  station  in 
Holland,  maintaining  large  wharves,  docks,  machine 
shops,  and  a  naval  academy,  the  students  of  which, 
two,  four,  and  six  abreast — Holland's  future  Tromps 
and  de  Ruyters — can  be  seen  strolling  up  and  down 
the  great  dike.  A  fraction  of  the  country's  one  hun- 
dred vessels  of  war  and  of  her  8,000  men  that  man 
them  receive  their  orders  at  the  station  at  Nieuwe- 
diep. 

Across  the  Strait  of  Marsdiep  is  the  Island  of 
Texel,,  the  most  southerly  unit  of  the  long  series  of 
vertebrae  that  curve  far  to  the  northeast,  as  if 
made  to  fit  exactly  the  coast  lines  of  the  provinces 
of  Friesland  and  Groningen.  A  steamer  plies  to 
Texel  from  Nieuwediep  and  returns  four  times  daily ; 
but  you  may  profitably  omit  the  island  from  your 
itinerary  unless  you  are  particularly  interested  in 
natural  history  and  you  happen  to  come  upon  Texel 
during  the  bird  nesting  season.  The  northern  ex- 
tremity of  the  island,  called  Eyerland,  or  "  The  Land 
of  Eggs,"  is  infested  with  sea  fowl,  the  eggs  of 
[148] 


ALKMAAR   AND   THE    HELDER 

which  are  collected  by  the  myriads  and  shipped  to 
the  large  cities.  Texel  is  seventy-three  square  miles 
in  area  and  supports  one  or  two  very  plain  bathing 
places,  but  most  of  its  six  thousand  inhabitants 
are  chiefly  engaged  in  the  business  of  sheep  raising 
on  the  long,  crater-like  pasture  land  hemmed  in  by 
the  sand  dunes. 


[i49l 


XI 

FROM   HOOEN   TO    STAVOREN 

IN  the  matter  of  ancient  buildings,  Hoorn  is  one 
of  the  gems  of  all  the  towns  of  Holland.  Its  fine 
old  harbor  tower,  its  Town  Hall,  its  weigh-house, 
its  Oosterpoort — the  most  prominent  remaining  fac- 
tor of  the  walls  that  once  surrounded  the  town — its 
assortment  of  quaint  old  gateways  and  entrances, 
its  steep-roofed  dwellings  and  warehouses  that  lean 
forward  or  backward  at  more  acute  angles  than  even 
the  oldest  buildings  in  Amsterdam — all  combine  in 
contributing  to  Hoorn  a  medieval  charm  that  is 
puissant  and  irresistible. 

But  whatever  Hoorn  may  be  noted  for  as  she 
stands  to-day,  her  name  has  gone  down  in  history 
as  that  of  the  mother  of  Dutch  navigators.  Three 
of  them  were  famous  in  their  day :  Schouten,  Tasman, 
and  Coen;  and,  in  the  eye  of  the  Dutch  nation,  the 
greatest  of  these  was  Coen — Jan  Pieters  Coen,  the 
founder  of  the  Dutch  dominions  in  the  East  Indies 
and  the  creator  of  Batavia  as  their  capital.  A  statue 
of  him  in  bronze  stands  in  the  Kaasmarkt  of  the  town 
of  his  birth. 

Tasman  was  numbered  among  the  foremost  dis- 
[150] 


FROM   HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

coverers  of  the  seventeenth  century.  In  the  year 
1639  he  was  assigned  to  a  voyage  of  exploration 
by  Van  Dieman,  the  governor  general  of  the  Dutch 
East  Indies  at  the  time,  his  cruise  leading  him  to 
the  Western  Pacific.  After  exploring  part  of  the 
coast  of  Luzon  in  the  Philippine  Islands,  he  sailed 
farther  to  the  northward  and  around  Japan,  but, 
discovering  no  land  not  already  nailed  to  the  flag  of 
some  nation,  he  set  sail  again  for  home  on  October 
15th  of  the  same  year. 

The  Hollanders  having  already  discovered  and  ex~ 
plored  a  part  of  the  west  coast  of  Australia,  the 
Dutch  East  India  Company  was  desirous  of  obtain- 
ing fuller  and  more  accurate  information  about  the 
territory  with  a  view  of  exploiting  its  natural  re- 
sources and  whatever  others  the  company  itself  might 
develop.  Accordingly,  on  August  14,  1642,  Tasman 
was  dispatched  from  Batavia  in  command  of  two 
ships  and  intrusted  with  the  task  of  bringing  back 
a  full  and  authentic  account  of  whatever  he  saw 
and  conquered.  Owing  to  the  inaccuracy  of  his 
sailing  charts,  head  winds  that  blew  him  from  his 
prescribed  course,  and  what  not,  he  went  south  of 
his  mark,  and  came  upon  a  hitherto  undiscovered 
country  which  he  promptly  named  Van  Dieman's 
Land,  in  honor  of  his  sponsor.  But  being  unaware 
that  what  is  now  known  as  Tasmania  was  an  island 
by  its  own  right,  he  hoisted  his  flag  and  set  to  work 
exploring  what  he  thought  at  the  time  to  be  the  most 
[151] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

of  Australia.  He  set  sail  again  from  the  newly  dis- 
covered territory,  bearing  to  the  eastward  with  a 
vague  idea  of  reaching  the  Solomon  Islands.  On  the 
13th  of  December  he  discovered  a  "high,  mountain- 
ous country,"  which  he  noted  in  his  log  book  as 
"  Staatenland."  For  some  unaccountable  reason  the 
English  have  allowed  its  name  to  remain  as  New 
Zealand,  neglecting  to  change  it  when  they  took  it 
over,  as  they  did  that  of  the  Dutch  colony  of  New 
Amsterdam. 

William  Schouten,  having  had  an  earlier  relapse 
under  the  spell  of  the  spray,  was  the  first  to  sail 
round  the  southern  extremity  of  South  America,  his 
goal  being  one  and  the  same  with  that  of  Henry 
Hudson,  who  attempted  a  supposed  route  to  China 
from  Amsterdam,  first  by  way  of  the  Chesapeake 
Bay,  and  later,  the  Hudson  River.  Schouten,  in 
passing,  christened  the  point  "  Cape  Hoorn,"  latterly 
contracted  to  "  Horn,"  in  honor  of  his  birthplace. 

In  addition  to  these,  Hoorn  refers  proudly  to  the 
exploits  of  another  of  her  sons,  John  Haring  by 
name,  a  Dutch  Horatius  whose  signal  courageous 
achievement  consisted  in  holding  in  check,  single- 
handed,  a  round  thousand  of  Spaniards,  while  his 
compatriots  gathered  themselves  together  in  order 
to  retreat  in  a  systematic  manner  at  least. 

It  took  place  before  Amsterdam  in  1573,  when 
the  city  was  held  in  the  grip  of  the  Dons.  The 
Prince  of  Orange  had  taken  up  a  position  to  the 

[152] 


bo 

•3 


G     r< 

•8  1 

C    0 

rt 


S  bo 


S 

O 

o 

K 


2 
"o 

a 


FROM    HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

south  of  the  city,  and  Sonoy,  his  general,  was  en- 
camped to  the  north.  The  operations  of  both  were 
hampered  by  the  lack  of  sufficient  forces.  Sonoy 
having  gone  to  Edam  for  the  purpose  of  gathering 
reinforcements,  the  Spaniards  in  his  absence  made 
a  concentrated  attack  upon  his  division  entrenched 
behind  the  Diemer  Dike.  Seeing  the  fight  was  going 
against  his  fellows,  Haring  of  Hoorn,  as  Motley  re- 
lates, "  planted  himself  entirely  alone  upon  the  dike, 
where  it  was  so  narrow  between  the  Y  on  the  one 
side  and  the  Diemer  Lake  on  the  other  that  two 
men  could  hardly  stand  abreast.  Here,  armed  with 
a  sword  and  a  shield,  he  had  actually  opposed  and 
held  in  check  one  thousand  of  the  enemy,  during  a 
period  long  enough  to  enable  his  own  men,  if  they 
had  been  willing,  to  rally  and  effectually  to  repel 
the  attack.  It  was  too  late — the  battle  was  too  far 
lost  to  be  restored;  but  still  the  brave  soldier  held 
his  post,  till,  by  his  devotion,  he  enabled  all  those 
of  his  compatriots  who  still  remained  in  the  entrench- 
ments to  make  good  their  retreat.  He  then  plunged 
into  the  sea,  and,  untouched  by  spear  or  bullet, 
effected  his  escape." 

But  John  Haring  survived  only  to  suffer  death 
in  the  attempt  of  an  equally  valiant  feat  a  few  months 
later  before  the  sea-gates  of  his  own  native  town. 

The  siege  of  Alkmaar  having  terminated  unhap- 
pily for  the  Spaniards,  they  dispatched  a  fleet  from 
Amsterdam  under  Count  Bossu,  to  effect  the  sur- 


WINDMILLS    AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

render  of  Hoorn  and  Enkhuizen.  No  sooner  had 
the  project  been  contemplated  than  the  Dutch  got 
wind  of  it ;  Admiral  Dirkzoon  sailed  in  command  of 
a  fleet  of  twenty-five  vessels,  and,  having  had  favor- 
able winds  and  weather,  bore  down  upon  the  Spanish 
armada  near  Hoorn. 

"After  a  short  and  general  engagement,"  accord- 
ing to  Motley,  "nearly  all  the  Spanish  fleet  retired 
with  precipitation,  closely  pursued  by  most  of  the 
patriot  Dutch  vessels.  Five  of  the  King's  ships  were 
eventually  taken — the  rest  effected  their  escape. 
Only  the  Admiral  remained,  who  scorned  to  yield, 
although  his  forces  had  thus  basely  deserted  him. 
His  ship,  the  Inquisition,  for  such  was  her  insolent 
appellation,  was  far  the  largest  and  best  manned 
of  both  fleets.  Most  of  the  enemy  had  gone  in 
pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  but  four  vessels  of  inferior 
size  had  attacked  the  Inquisition  at  the  commence- 
ment of  the  action.  Of  these,  one  had  soon  been 
silenced,  while  the  other  three  had  grappled  them- 
selves inextricably  to  her  sides  and  prow.  The  four 
drifted  together,  before  wind  and  tide,  a  severe  and 
savage  action  going  on  incessantly,  during  which  the 
navigation  of  the  ships  was  entirely  abandoned.  No 
scientific  gunnery,  no  military  or  naval  tactics,  were 
displayed  or  required  in  such  a  conflict.  It  was  a 
life-and-death  combat,  such  as  always  occurred  when 
Spaniard  and  Netherlander  met,  whether  on  land  or 
water.  Bossu  and  his  men,  armed  with  bullet-proof 

[i54] 


FROM    HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

coats  of  mail,  stood  with  shield  and  sword  on  the 
deck  of  the  Inquisition,  ready  to  repel  all  attempts 
to  board.  The  Hollanders,  as  usual,  attacked  with 
pitch  hoops,  boiling  oil,  and  molten  lead.  Re- 
peatedly they  effected  their  entrance  to  the  Admiral's 
ship,  and  as  often  they  were  repulsed  and  slain  in 
heaps,  or  hurled  into  the  sea.  The  battle  began  at 
three  in  the  afternoon,  and  continued  without  in- 
termission throughout  the  whole  night.  The  vessels, 
drifting  together,  struck  on  the  shoal  called  the  Nek, 
near  Wydeness.  In  the  heat  of  the  action  the  oc- 
currence was  hardly  heeded.  In  the  morning  twi- 
light, John  Haring  of  Hoorn,  the  hero  who  had  kept 
one  thousand  soldiers  at  bay  upon  the  Diemer  dike, 
clambered  on  board  the  Inquisition,  and  hauled  her 
colors  down.  The  gallant  but  premature  achieve- 
ment cost  him  his  life.  He  was  shot  through  the 
body,  and  died  on  the  deck  of  the  ship,  which  was 
not  quite  ready  to  strike  her  flag.  .  .  .  At  eleven 
o'clock  Admiral  Bossu  surrendered,  and  with  three 
hundred  prisoners  was  carried  into  Holland.  Bossu 
was  himself  imprisoned  at  Hoorn,  in  which  city  he 
was  received,  on  his  arrival,  with  great  demonstra- 
tions of  popular  hatred." 

It  was  on  a  feast-day  that  I  came  upon  Hoorn,  and 
the  place  was  garbed  in  gala  attire.  Throughout 
the  morning  the  hotel  stableboys  were  kept  busy 
tending  the  horses  of  rural  arrivals,  and  every  stable- 
yard  was  congested  with  wagonettes  and  carts. 

[155] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

Never  have  I  seen  such  a  variety  of  vehicles.  There 
was  the  painted  produce  wagon  with  its  white  canvas 
cover ;  there  was  the  gayly  decorated  antique  "  two- 
wheeler,"  its  body  swung  upon  heavy  straps  held  fore 
and  aft  at  the  ends  of  great  protruding  springs ; 
there  was  the  commodious,  shapely  cart  of  plum- 
colored  upholstery,  belonging  to  the  "gentleman 
farmer";  and  there  was  a  host  of  others  too  numer- 
ous to  describe  in  detail. 

Hoorn's  main  street  had  been  roped  off,  and  the 
bricks  covered  with  a  thick  layer  of  sand,  in  prepara- 
tion for  the  series  of  horse  races  that  was  soon  to 
take  place  up  and  down  its  length.  Along  about 
noon  the  Dutch  David  Harums  led  their  horses  down 
to  the  improvised  race  track  behind  the  village  band 
in  all  its  glory,  and  the  festivities  were  on. 

Running  races  were  of  necessity  tabooed  on  ac- 
count of  the  danger  to  life  and  property — the  actions 
of  the  horse  being  restricted  to  such  an  extent  by 
the  limited  fairway  of  the  course  that,  in  event  of 
the  horse's  losing  its  head,  even  the  side  ropes  along 
the  street  could  not  restrain  it  from  dashing  through 
the  crowd  and  into  the  window  of  the  nearest  cheese 
shop.  But  there  were  sulky  races  between  the  Hal 
Pointers  and  the  Palo  Altos  of  the  district,  driven 
with  rope  reins  by  erstwhile  jockeys,  some  of  the 
costumes  of  whom  were  no  less  curious  than  the  har- 
ness of  the  horses.  Breeches,  in  some  cases,  and 
blouses,  in  others,  looked  as  if  they  might  have  been 

[156] 


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FROM    HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

recently  redeemed  from  many  years  of  confinement 
in  Amsterdam's  municipal  pawnshop,  their  public  sale 
having  been  repeatedly  overlooked. 

Riding,  instead  of  driving,  would  seem  with  us  a 
less  effective  method  of  developing  the  speed  of  a 
trotting  horse,  and  it  certainly  appears  to  be  a  less 
comfortable  one,  but  ride  them  they  do  in  many  parts 
of  Holland.  I  can  imagine  only  one  reason  for  the 
prevalence  of  the  custom,  and  that  is  that  the  trotting 
horses  are  so  rotund  and  ponderous  that  the  shafts 
of  no  sulky  would  fit  them,  and  if  it  did,  no  driver 
could  spread  his  lower  limbs  so  far  apart  as  to  drive 
the  horse  from  the  sulky's  seat.  Large  and  ample 
as  Percherons  are  some  of  these  North  Holland  and 
Friesland  horses,  with  long,  well-groomed  tails  and 
manes ;  but  they  have  a  faster  gait  than  they  might 
be  given  credit  for  when  seen  hitched  to  a  cart  or 
a  farm  wagon.  Pads  with  knee  braces,  which  serve 
the  riders  in  place  of  saddles,  are  strapped  to  the 
horses'  backs,  and  they  trot  the  course  with  but 
little  less  action  than  blue  grass  Kentuckians.  A 
singular  thing  is  that  they  seldom  "  break,"  their 
weight  apparently  holding  them  to  the  trot. 

The  express  trains  from  Amsterdam  to  Leeuwar- 
den  make  the  run  in  just  over  three  hours  and  a  half, 
including  the  ferry  passage  of  an  hour  and  ten 
minutes  across  the  neck  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  from 
Enkhuizen  to  Stavoren.  The  line  runs  through 
Zaandam  to  Hoorn  and  thence  to  Enkhuizen  through 

[i57] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

the  richest  farming  district  in  North  Holland.  The 
farmhouses,  somewhat  more  substantially  built  than 
those  in  the  south,  resemble  what  we  rather  ambigu- 
ously call  "country  residences."  They  have  their 
lawns  and  their  gardens  full  of  flowers,  and  each  is 
surrounded  with  its  little  moat,  bridged  by  a  tiny 
archway  which  connects  the  house  with  the  road  at 
but  a  single  point. 

Enkhuizen  is  the  unfortunate  victim  of  what  its 
inhabitants  must  consider  to  be  a  depraved  taste  for 
salmon  rather  than  herring.  The  Rhine  salmon  has 
taken  the  place  of  the  humble  herring  on  the  Dutch 
menu  cards,  and  the  town  of  Enkhuizen  has  dwindled 
accordingly.  Of  its  fleet  of  four  hundred  herring 
vessels  and  its  population  of  40,000  souls  in  the 
seventeenth  century,  not  a  single  fishing  smack  and 
only  6,300  descendants  of  its  earlier  inhabitants 
remain. 

Aside  from  the  magnitude  of  its  one-time  fishing 
industry,  Enkhuizen  courts  the  fickleness  of  fame 
by  being  the  birthplace  of  Paul  Potter,  Born  in 
1625,  he  painted  his  most  renowned  canvas,  "The 
Bull" — now  in  the  Mauritshuis  at  The  Hague — at 
the  age  of  two-and-twenty,  and  died  but  seven  years 
later — only  another  of  the  many  instances  where 
Death  has  chosen  to  lay  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  one  so  young  and  signally  gifted  in  preference 
to  an  octogenarian  dullard. 

Waiting  alongside  the  dock  station  at  Enkhuizen 
[158] 


FROM   HOORN  TO   STAVOREN 

will  be  the  side-wheel  steamer  that  ferries  the  pas- 
sengers the  fourteen  miles  across  the  Zuyder  Zee 
to  Stavoren  in  Friesland.  The  old  Dromedary  Tower, 
as  they  call  it,  at  the  harbor,  diminishes  rapidly  into 
the  general  skyline  of  Enkhuizen,  and  you  will  be 
sailing  out  over  what  was  once  a  broad  isthmus  of 
dry  land — for  the  Zuyder  Zee  was  not  always  the 
Zuyder  Zee.  Until  the  thirteenth  century  it  con- 
sisted of  but  a  comparatively  small  inland  lake  called 
Flevo.  Near  the  close  of  that  cycle — in  1282,  to 
give  the  exact  year — the  German  ocean  burst  over 
the  land  from  the  north,  wiping  the  lives  of  80,000 
people  out  of  existence  and  combining  itself  and 
Lake  Flevo  into  one,  which  was  henceforth  called  the 
Zuyder  Zee.  Above  the  ferry  crossing,  beginning  at 
the  eastern  end  of  the  little  island  of  Wieringen,  they 
will  build  the  contemplated  dam  across  it,  the  first 
process  in  the  reclamation  of  more  than  a  million 
acres  of  what  was  once  a  fertile,  productive  district. 

In  pleasant  weather  it  is  a  beautiful  trip  across 
the  neck  of  the  Zee,  but  if  the  breeze  blows  from 
the  north,  bringing  with  it  the  customary  cold 
drizzle  of  rain,  the  best  method  of  putting  in  the 
time  is  to  go  below  to  the  cabin  and  follow  the  in- 
variable custom  of  the  country  of  eating  bread  and 
great,  thin  slices  of  Dutch  cheese. 

Stavoren  is  the  deadest  of  all  the  "  dead  cities 
of  the  Zuyder  Zee."  At  the  beginning  of  the  thir- 
teenth century  the  merchants  of  Stavoren  were  pre- 

[i59] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

potent  among  the  rulers  of  the  world  of  trade  and 
commerce.  Treasures  from  all  the  then  known 
corners  of  the  earth  lay  in  their  storehouses.  The 
homes  of  these  merchant  princes  were  palaces  com- 
parable only  with  those  of  kings  and  furnished  with 
the  sumptuousness  and  incomputable  grandeur  of 
the  famous  abodes  of  the  Sultan  Harun-al-Rashid 
in  the  "  Arabian  Nights."  Previously,  Stavoren  had 
been  the  residence  of  all  the  Frisian  princes.  But 
riches  contributed  to  the  pride  that  came  before  its 
fall.  To-day  the  census  taker  counts  its  population 
in  three  figures  and  its  commerce  is  not  worthy  of 
mention  in  a  trade  report.  The  smoke  of  the  linger- 
ing express  train  that  will  subsequently  carry  you 
to  Friesland's  capital  is  the  only  evidence  that  the 
town  may  not  be  abandoned  completely. 

As  you  sail  into  the  harbor,  a  wide,  grass-grown 
embankment  in  front  of  the  town  can  be  seen  plainly 
from  the  steamer's  deck.  This  is  the  Vrouwensand, 
and  it  recalls  the  legend  that  attributes  the  fall  of 
Stavoren  to  the  whims  of  a  woman.  The  reader 
himself  must  be  the  judge  whether  or  not  the  tale 
is  worth  the  telling.  One  writer  on  Holland  asserts 
that  no  author  dealing  previously  with  the  country 
in  a  literary  way  has  been  gifted  either  with  the 
independence  or  the  imprudence  to  avoid  it.  His 
predecessors  have  been  numerous  and  illustrious,  and 
if  the  story  be  so  important  that  each  of  them  has 
seen  fit  to  relate  it,  I  can  do  naught  but  imitate. 
[160] 


FROM    HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

Of  all  the  inhabitants  of  the  old  city  of  Stavoren, 
none  was  so  blessed  with  riches  as  the  wife  of  a 
certain  wealthy  merchant.  Continually  bathed  in 
the  high  lights  of  smiling  fortune,  she  plucked  one 
by  one  the  treasures  that  were  thrown  daily  at  her 
feet.  She  owned  everything  of  intrinsic  value  that 
the  fabulous  wealth  of  her  husband  could  bestow 
upon  her.  But  one  thing  she  did  not  possess,  and 
that  was  love.  Her  character  was  devoid  of  a 
woman's  tenderness.  She  was  cold,  indifferent,  super- 
cilious, insouciant.  Exaggerated  pride  in  her  own 
wealth  and  an  undying  envy  of  those  whose  fortunes 
dared  to  compete  with  hers — these  were  the  only 
passions  of  her  life. 

One  day,  while  acting  as  hostess  at  a  great  ban- 
quet, a  stranger  from  the  Far  East  was  ushered 
into  the  room.  He  had  come,  he  said,  to  behold  the 
marvelous  wealth  of  Stavoren  with  his  own  eyes,  and 
now  that  he  had  penetrated  into  this  merchant's 
house,  he  felt  he  had  been  amply  rewarded. 

The  merchant's  wife,  not  impervious  to  flattery, 
requested  the  traveler  to  be  seated  and  to  partake 
of  the  banquet  as  her  unbidden  but  welcome  guest. 
He  accepted  the  invitation  in  part,  but  asked,  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  Orient  whence  he  came, 
for  nothing  but  some  bread  and  salt.  Servants 
were  dispatched  to  bring  both,  but  returned,  say- 
ing that  no  such  simple  articles  of  food  could 
be  found  in  the  house.  Thereupon  the  stranger, 

[161] 


WINDMILLS  AND  WOODEN   SHOES 

without  further  word,  ate  of  the  costly  and  unfa- 
miliar dishes  prepared  for  the  banquet. 

After  the  feast  he  told  of  his  travels,  he  expatiated 
upon  the  successes  and  the  failures  of  his  life,  he 
discoursed  with  much  eloquent  verbiage  upon  the 
instability  of  earthly  fortunes,  and  he  prognosticated 
the  ultimate  fall  of  wealth  and  splendor.  His  hos- 
tess became  offended,  not  only  because  of  his  con- 
tumelious belittling  the  value  of  riches  in  her  pres- 
ence and  before  her  guests,  but  because  he  had  failed 
thus  far  to  compliment  her  upon  her  personal  beauty 
and  the  luxuries  to  be  found  in  her  home.  Before 
he  took  his  leave  he  mollified  his  views  to  this  extent: 
"  O  gracious  lady,"  he  said,  "  marvelous  indeed  is  your 
home  and  fit  for  a  queen;  if  you  traveled  far  and 
near  you  could  not  find  its  equal.  But,  my  lady, 
among  your  treasures  I  miss  one  thing,  and  that  is 
the  noblest  that  all  the  earth  produces."  He  de- 
parted forthwith,  leaving  the  gathering  in  a  state  of 
perplexity. 

To  please  the  whim  of  his  wife,  the  merchant  dis- 
patched a  fleet  of  ships  to  cruise  the  world  until  it 
should  find  "The  noblest  thing  that  all  the  earth 
produces,"  whereupon  the  fleet's  commander  should 
fill  the  hulls  and  cover  the  decks  with  it  and  bring 
it  to  Stavoren.  For  months  the  ships  sailed  about, 
touching  at  one  port  and  then  at  another,  blindly 
searching  for  this  most  costly  of  all  treasures. 

One  day  a  heavy  sea  came  over  one  of  the  ships, 
[162] 


FROM    HOORN   TO    STAVOREN 

flooding  the  'tween  decks  and  spoiling  the  provisions. 
The  crew  became  in  need  of  bread,  but  there  was 
no  flour  with  which  to  bake  it.  The  men  grew 
mutinous.  The  captain  saw  that  neither  gold  nor 
silks  nor  precious  jewels  could  outweigh  the  value 
of  bread,  and  the  occurrence  led  him  to  believe  that 
bread  was  the  most  expensive  thing  in  the  world. 
He  reported  the  matter  to  the  commander,  who 
agreed  with  his  specious  argument,  and  the  whole 
fleet  hurried  to  the  nearest  port,  which  happened  to 
be  Danzig.  They  loaded  the  vessels  with  the  finest 
wheat,  and  set  sail  direct  for  Stavoren. 

When  the  merchant's  wife  heard  of  the  nature 
of  the  cargo  the  fleet  had  brought  home,  she  ordered 
the  wheat  thrown  into  the  sea.  The  poor  of  the  town 
begged  and  implored,  stormed  and  reproached,  but 
of  no  avail;  the  order  of  the  woman  was  executed 
to  the  letter. 

By  and  by  myriads  of  blades  of  grainless  wheat 
commenced  to  appear  above  the  surface  of  the  water. 
Their  stocks  and  roots  collected  the  sand  as  it  was 
washed  up  by  the  tides  of  the  German  ocean,  forming 
a  great  sand  dune  that  blocked  the  port  so  that 
vessels  could  neither  enter  nor  leave.  The  inhabi- 
tants of  the  place  were  suddenly  brought  face  to 
face  with  the  fact  that  commerce,  the  source  of  their 
wealth,  had  to  be  abandoned.  Poverty  and  want 
reigned  where  riches  ruled  before.  The  wife  of  the 
once  wealthy  merchant  wandered  about  from  village 
[163] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

to  village,  begging  the  bread  which  no  one  who  had 
heard  of  her  improvidence  would  give  her.  She  suf- 
fered death  from  utter  starvation.  Then  one  night 
the  sea  began  to  boom  and,  bursting  over  the  dunes, 
buried  the  town  forever. 

To  this  day  the  more  superstitious  of  the  fisher- 
folk  who  ply  their  vocation  along  that  coast  of  the 
Zuyder  Zee  talk  of  the  wonderful  sunken  city  of 
Stavoren  and  how  its  pinnacles  and  palaces  at  the 
bottom  glitter  up  through  the  pellucid  waters  under 
the  rays  of  a  summer's  sun. 


[164] 


.2  B 

«§ 

6  ? 

3    « 


- 

-2U, 


XII 

FRIESLAND  AND  ITS  CAPITAL 

EEU WARDEN  is  the  most  important  town  in 
Friesland ;  therefore  its  capital.  Also  it  is  the 
only  place  in  the  province  that  is  really  worth  a 
protracted  visit.  On  the  way  from  Stavoren  you 
may  wander  up  the  coast  a  short  distance  to  Hinde- 
loopen,  once  famed  for  its  highly  decorated  furniture 
and  the  many-colored  costumes  of  its  natives ;  you 
may  stop  off  at  Sneek  and  see  its  stadthuis  and  its 
waterpoort,  better  examples  of  which  you  will  have 
already  seen  in  North  Holland;  you  may  journey 
over  to  the  coast  town  of  Harlingen — a  much  less 
interesting  fishing  port  than  Volendam — breaking 
the  trip  at  Franeker  to  see  the  wonderfully  ingenious 
astronomical  model  of  the  workings  of  the  solar  sys- 
tem which  took  one  of  the  more  inventive  citizens 
of  the  place,  Eise  Eisenga  by  name,  seven  years  to 
construct;  but  all  of  these  especial  features,  and 
more,  can  be  seen  and  studied  in  Leeuwarden. 

When  you  enter  the  interior  of  Friesland  you  will 
be  penetrating  one  of  the  three  or  four  provinces 
of  Holland  that  are  not  overrun  with  tourists. 
Even  in  its  capital  an  American  is  more  or  less  of 

[165] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

a  curiosity  and  he  may  expect  to  be  stared 
at  until  the  people  stumble  over  each  other,  almost, 
in  their  well-meaning  efforts  to  divine  his  nationality ; 
but  he  may  console  himself  in  the  thought  that  they 
will  be  just  as  curious,  if  not  as  humorous,  to  him 
as  he  is  to  them. 

Before  the  time  of  the  terrific  geographical  con- 
vulsion responsible  for  the  formation  of  the  Zuyder 
Zee,  there  had  been  but  one  Friesland,  stretching 
over  much  of  the  entire  territory  later  known  as  that 
of  the  Dutch  Republic,  including  Holland.  Its  in- 
habitants, the  Frisians,  were  renowned  throughout 
Europe  for  their  physical  prowess.  Imbued  with  an 
unquenchable  love  for  political  independence,  they 
had  shaken  off  the  yokes  of  the  imperial  counts  and 
had  formed  the  league  of  the  seven  "  Sea  Lands  "  in 
the  eleventh  century.  After  being  subjugated  for 
a  time  by  Charlemagne,  they  suddenly  rebelled,  and 
in  1256  defeated  and  put  to  death  the  German  king, 
William  II  of  Holland.  When  the  German  ocean 
rolled  in  over  the  land,  engulfing  considerably  more 
than  a  thousand  Frisian  villages,  it  separated  kindred 
peoples,  creating  not  only  a  geographical  but  a  polit- 
ical chasm  between  them.  West  Friesland  became 
absorbed  in  Holland,  but  East  Friesland  continued 
its  career  as  a  confederation  of  independently  gov- 
erned maritime  provinces,  until  Saxony,  hard  pressed 
for  funds,  sold  its  sovereignty  to  the  house  of  Austria 
for  a  paltry  350,000  crowns. 
[166] 


FRIESLAND    AND   ITS    CAPITAL 

Then  Charles  V,  Count  of  Holland,  Emperor  of 
Germany,  King  of  Jerusalem,  Sicily,  and  Spain, 
Duke  of  Milan,  dominator  of  much  in  Asia  and 
Africa  and  "  autocrat  of  half  the  world,"  established 
his  predatorial  authority,  and  "this  little  country, 
whose  statutes  proclaimed  her  to  be  *  free  as  the 
wind  as  long  as  it  blew,'  whose  institutions  Charle- 
magne had  honored  and  left  unmolested,  who  had 
freed  herself  with  ready  poniard  from  Norman  tyr- 
anny, who  had  never  bowed  her  neck  to  feudal  chief- 
tain, nor  to  the  papal  yoke,"  finally  forfeited  her 
independent  existence.  Her  peoples  are  the  only 
Germanic  tribe  that  have  preserved  an  unaltered 
nomenclature  since  the  time  of  the  Romans;  they 
will  be  Frisians  to-morrow,  as  they  were  the  day 
before  yesterday. 

The  most  prominent  and  characteristic  feature  of 
the  Frisian  costume  is  the  headdress  of  its  women — 
in  fact,  it  is  the  only  one  extant  worthy  of  any 
notice  whatever,  for  the  remainder  of  the  make-up, 
not  only  of  the  men  but  of  the  women  also,  is  com- 
monplace and  unattractive.  This  headdress  consists 
of  a  kind  of  metal  skullcap,  as  often  made  of  gold 
as  of  silver,  fitting  closely  at  the  temples  and  em- 
bellished at  these  points  with  a  pair  of  spiral  orna- 
ments. Over  this  is  worn  a  cap  of  white  or  light 
blue  lace,  having  a  so-called  "  tail  piece "  dangling 
down  the  back  of  the  neck  like  the  scoop  of  a  fireman's 
helmet.  On  top  of  all  this,  many  of  the  women — 

[167] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

as  if  their  violent  efforts  to  adapt  the  modern  were 
wrestling  with  a  series  of  sturdy  determinations  to 
retain  the  antique — will  crown  the  sublime  with  the 
ridiculous  by  wearing  an  old-fashioned  black  "  poke 
bonnet,"  with  the  strings  tied  in  a  bow  under  the 
chin.  These  gold  and  silver  head-pieces  are  handed 
down  from  one  generation  to  another,  and  the  gold 
ones,  especially,  are  expensive;  but  that  item  does 
not  curb  the  desire  and  ambition  of  every  mother's 
daughter  in  Friesland  to  own  one,  where  the  usual 
heirloom  has  not  been  forthcoming. 

An  admirable  collection  showing  the  evolution  of 
the  Frisian  metal  skull  plate  is  on  view  in  the  Frisian 
Museum  in  Leeuwarden.  Adapted  first  as  a  kind  of 
hair  ornament  of  two  coin-sized  flat  pieces  connected 
simply  by  a  thin  wire,  its  size  developed  gradually 
until  the  two  small  termini  became  consolidated  into 
a  single  large  one  that  covered  the  entire  head  of 
the  wearer.  The  latest  specimen  in  the  Museum  is 
decorated  in  front  with  a  diamond-studded  brooch, 
the  whole  costing  in  the  neighborhood  of  $1,200. 

The  Frisian  Museum  in  Leeuwarden  contains  also 
about  the  most  valuable  and  comprehensive  collection 
of  old  Delft,  Chinese,  and  Japanese  ware  in  Holland, 
tastefully  cabineted  in  one  of  the  large  rooms  on  the 
ground  floor.  To  the  connoisseur  in  such  matters 
this  room  is  a  treat  that  cannot  be  overlooked  with 
impunity,  for  the  character  of  its  contents  is  un- 
paralleled and  its  value  indeterminable.  Shelf  after 

[168] 


Leeuwarden's  structural  curiosity  is  the  Olde-Hove,  an  unfin- 
ished church  tower  of  brick,  leaning  with  all  the  abandon 
of  Pisa's  Tower 


FRIESLAND    AND    ITS    CAPITAL 

shelf  there  are  of  the  most  delicately  tinted  tea 
sets  and  table  services,  vases  and  urns  of  every  de- 
scription, and  the  wooden  columns  that  support  the 
floor  above  are  hung  with  graduated  festoons  of 
plates  and  saucers,  so  that  it  would  take  the  greater 
part  of  a  week  to  inspect  them  all. 

On  the  second  floor  are  a  number  of  tiled  rooms 
furnished  in  authentic  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  cen- 
tury style,  even  to  the  sleeping  bunks  in  the  walls 
and  the  miniature  ladders  that  once  assisted  in  climb- 
ing into  them.  The  models  of  these  and  most  of  their 
furnishings  were  found  in  Hindeloopen.  To  increase 
the  realistic  effect  of  these  apartments  the  authorities 
have  introduced  groups  of  three  or  four  stuffed 
figures  attired  in  the  costumes  of  the  period,  posed 
in  front  of  the  fireplace  or  about  a  center  table,  but 
they  are  so  stiff  and  ludicrous-looking  that  they  might 
well  be  dispensed  with,  and  their  costumes  shown  to 
better  effect  behind  the  glass  of  a  cabinet.  In  the 
basement  can  be  seen  a  few  rooms  finished  and  out- 
fitted with  the  domestic  and  culinary  implements  of 
the  same  centuries. 

In  addition  to  all  these  there  are  two  adjoining 
rooms  on  the  second  floor  of  the  Museum  containing 
old  furniture  and  decorations  bequeathed  to  the  State 
by  the  artist  Bisschop.  The  most  conspicuous  ob- 
ject in  one  of  these  rooms  is  an  immense  cabinet  of 
beautifully  carved  oak,  black  and  glossy  with  age, 
that  would  excite  the  envy  of  any  lover  of  the  antique. 

[169] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Built  in  1610,  it  was  purchased  thirty-five  years  ago 
by  Bisschop  for  something  like  twelve  or  fifteen  dol- 
lars; to-day  it  has  a  valuation  of  $2,000.  On  its 
top  stand  two  pieces  of  old  Delft  for  which  the  artist 
originally  gave  as  little  as  ten  gulden. 

The  remaining  rooms  of  the  Museum  contain  col- 
lections of  Roman  and  Frisian  coins  and  medals, 
Roman  curiosities  found  in  the  neighborhood,  fine  old 
silver  plate  and  flagons,  remarkably  carved  ivory 
hunting  horns,  and,  since  the  early  Frisians  were 
alleged  by  some  to  be  the  first  pipe  smokers  in  Eu- 
rope, an  instructive  conglomeration  of  pipes  and 
tobacco  pouches  and  all  the  accessory  appurtenances 
necessary  to  the  full  enjoyment  of  the  weed. 

The  Chancellerie,  a  large  building  just  around  the 
corner  from  the  Museum,  erected  in  the  reign  of 
Philip  II  and  used  originally  as  a  law  court,  still 
serves  the  government  by  housing  the  national 
archives  and  the  provincial  library.  With  its  hand- 
some Gothic  fa9ade,  this  building  is  Friesland's  archi- 
tectural masterpiece  and  one  of  the  best  preserved 
of  ancient  buildings  in  all  Holland.  In  forceful 
contrast  to  it  is  Leeuwarden's  structural  curiosity, 
an  unfinished  church  tower  of  brick,  called  the  Olde- 
Hove,  one  hundred  and  thirty  feet  in  height  and 
marking  the  western  boundary  of  the  city  proper. 
Just  when  it  will  take  it  into  its  head  to  topple  over 
is  a  problem  of  uncertain  solution,  but,  judging  from 
this  Dutch  Leaning  Tower  of  Pisa's  utter  disregard 

[170] 


FRIESLAND    AND   ITS   CAPITAL 

for  the  perpendicular,  it  looks  as  though  it  might 
bury  a  part  of  Leeuwarden's  pretty  park  under  its 
debris  almost  any  minute. 

The  city  of  Leeuwarden  is  entirely  surrounded  by 
the  cobra-like  coil  of  a  wide  canal,  the  quays  of  which 
afford  loading  and  unloading  facilities  for  the  many 
boats  that  ply  to  and  from  Leeuwarden  from  and  to 
almost  every  point  in  Holland.  Along  the  north 
and  west  edges  of  this  canal  on  the  town  side  they 
have  planted  lawns  and  flower  beds  on  the  site  of  the 
old  city  bastions.  And,  speaking' about  flower  beds, 
the  largest.geraniums  I  think  I  ever  saw  were  grow- 
ing in  a  little  plot  near  the  station  in  Leeuwarden; 
each  cluster  of  blossoms  seemed  as  great  in  diameter 
as  the  head  of  a  small  cabbage.  Friesland  is  also 
the  land  of  begonias,  but  in  Groningen  the  plants 
seem  to  bear  a  larger  flower  than  they  do  in  Leeu- 
warden. 

Distant  as  it  is  from  the  great  centers  of  Dutch 
life  and  activity,  Leeuwarden  seems  of  more  recent 
vintage  than  any  city  of  its  size  you  will  have  seen 
so  far  in  the  Netherlands;  its  types  are  fewer  than 
in  almost  any  town  on  the  other  side  of  the  Zuyder 
Zee  and  its  old  buildings  and  churches  are  less  numer- 
ous. Most  of  the  former  they  have  adapted  to  mod- 
ern usage,  and  even  the  old  weigh-house  that  stands 
severely  alone  beside  the  canal  in  the  Waagsplein 
has  been  turned  into  a  fire  station.  The  canal  that 
sweeps  through  the  town  from  west  to  east  is  lined 
[171] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

where  the  space  permits  with  little  colonies  of  shops 
on  wheels,  built  of  corrugated  iron  and  capable  of 
being  closed  at  night  against  the  mischievous  pranks 
of  young  Holland — peripatetic  shopping  and  market- 
ing districts,  offering  anything  and  everything  for 
sale  that  may  be  found  in  the  permanent  stores. 

Hotel  accommodations,  however,  are  more  provin- 
cial. In  the  dining-room  everyone  is  seated  at  one 
long  table,  as  in  the  smaller  hotels  in  The  Hague, 
so  that  an  ordinary  mealtime  looks  more  like  a  ban- 
quet. The  business  and  social  phases  of  the  hotel 
are  conducted  in  one  large  room  wherein  the  men 
gather  after  dinner  to  sit  and  smoke,  read,  or  play 
chess.  Here  in  a  corner  at  a  little  desk  holds  forth 
the  head  waiter.  Although  he  is  the  functionary  who 
assigns  you  to  your  room  and  to  whom  you  pay  your 
bill,  he  is  not  so  preeminent  as  the  head  waiters 
of  most  of  the  hotels  in  the  south,  for  the  proprietor 
usually  shows  a  preference  to  manage  the  place  ac- 
cording to  his  own  ideas.  As  a  general  rule  he  will 
do  his  own  marketing  and,  if  conditions  require  it, 
he  is  not  above  helping  to  wait  upon  the  table  and 
making  himself  useful  in  many  other  ways. 

Not  far  from  Leeuwarden,  in  the  village  of  Don- 
rijp,  was  born,  in  1836,  one  of  Holland's  most  emi- 
nent modern  artists,  although  a  naturalized  subject 
of  Great  Britain  since  1873 — Sir  Laurens  Alma 
Tadema,  some  noted  examples  of  whose  work  are  to 
be  seen  in  the  Mesdag  Museum  in  The  Hague. 

[172] 


FRIESLAND   AND   ITS    CAPITAL 

Another  town,  Marssum,  a  few  miles  distant,  is 
famous  as  the  center  of  the  cattle  district,  and  dealers 
and  breeders  come  to  some  of  the  large  farms  in  the 
vicinity  from  all  over  the  world,  including  America, 
to  purchase  blooded  Frisian  stock.  Indeed,  all  along 
the  thirty-three  miles  of  railway  between  Leeu- 
warden  and  Groningen  the  pastures  are  dotted  with 
fine,  healthy-looking  black  and  white  cows.  Each 
field  being  surrounded  by  a  small  canal  eight  or 
ten  feet  in  width,  the  cattle  may  be  segregated,  one 
herd  from  another,  by  simply  closing  the  gates  on  top 
of  the  narrow  hills  that  lead  across  the  intervening 
canal  from  one  pasture  to  its  neighbor ;  thus  the  labor 
and  expense  of  building  fences  is  saved.  As  much 
as  North  Holland  is  noted  for  its  cheese,  just  so  much 
is  Friesland  famed  for  its  butter,  and  between  130,- 
000,000  and  140,000,000  pounds  of  it  are  churned 
annually.  The  conditions  of  the  trade  are  excep- 
tionally sanitary  and  at  all  times  under  government 
inspection. 

Here  and  there  through  Friesland — in  fact, 
through  almost  any  part  of  the  Netherlands — you 
will  see  a  high  wooden  tripod  topped  with  the  usual 
cartload  of  debris  that  constitutes  a  stork's  nest; 
for  the  stork,  be  it  remembered,  is  the  national  bird 
of  Holland,  and  if  the  farmhouse  offers  no  suitable 
place,  such  as  a  chimney  pot,  for  example,  for  the 
stork  to  build  its  summer  home,  the  farmer  is  wont 
to  court  the  luck  that  a  nesting  stork  about  the  place 

[i73] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

is  thought  to  be  sure  to  bring,  and  builds  a  nesting 
place  for  it. 

They  wend  their  migratory  way  northward,  these 
storks,  from  the  interior  of  Africa  near  the  sources 
of  the  Nile,  and  make  their  appearance  in  Holland 
contemporaneous  with  the  first  signs  of  approaching 
spring.  Their  coming  is  regarded  as  a  veritable 
Godsend  by  the  Netherlander  and  the  various  Dutch 
journals  feature  the  "stories"  of  first  reported 
arrivals,  and  devote  to  them  an  amount  of  space  com- 
mensurate with  the  importance  of  the  event,  while 
any  decrease  in  the  numbers  of  the  birds  is  quickly 
observed  and  promptly  linotyped. 

When  the  storks,  so  high  in  the  air  that  they 
appear  as  mere  specks,  approach  the  familiar  scenes 
and  nesting  places  of  previous  summers,  they  descend 
to  the  earth  in  pairs  to  hunt  about  for  their  old 
abodes.  Having  finally  discovered  these,  a  deal  of 
repairing  will  have  to  be  done  to  render  them  once 
more  habitable.  Both  the  male  and  the  female  labor 
with  a  great  deal  of  energy  and  no  little  re- 
sourcefulness in  the  reconstruction  of  the  old  nest, 
collecting  sticks  and  twigs,  and  weaving  them  to- 
gether with  much  mathematical  precision.  Endowed 
with  no  vocal  power  of  calling  each  other  or  criticis- 
ing their  work,  their  silence  while  at  the  task  is  punc- 
tuated only  with  a  comical  snapping  of  bill  and  a 
suggestive  flapping  of  wings.  If  a  certain  pair  has 
been  a  little  premature,  perhaps,  and  chosen,  not 


FRIESLAND   AND   ITS   CAPITAL 

always  by  mistake,  another  pair's  nest,  the  ensuing 
imbroglio  often  results  in  such  a  complete  destruction 
of  the  point  at  issue  that  both  pairs  instead  of  one 
must  build  anew. 

The  story  of  the  "  Stork's  Judgment "  is  one  of 
the  best  known  among  the  Dutch  with  regard  to  these 
birds.  It  is  that  in  the  fall,  prior  to  the  departure 
of  the  storks  for  southern  climes,  all  the  old  and 
decrepit  ones,  too  weakly  to  stand  the  long  trip,  are 
killed  off  so  that  the  general  migration  may  not  be 
delayed  or  impeded.  Another  belief  held  by  the 
Hollander,  more  or  less  a  child  of  the  imagination 
but  not  without  at  least  a  tinge  of  fact,  is  that  among 
the  stork  communities  a  certain  number  of  picked 
birds  are  detailed  each  season  to  act  in  the  capacity 
of  a  regular  police  force  to  preserve  the  peace  and 
protect  the  interests  of  the  colony  at  large. 

A  stork's  nest  on  the  roof  serves,  according  to  the 
superstitions  of  many  Dutch  farmers,  as  a  prevention 
to  the  ravages  of  lightning  and  the  contraction  of 
contagious  diseases  by  their  families.  Misfortune  in 
some  form  or  other  is  sure  to  follow  if  the  stork  does 
not  see  fit  to  nest  somewhere  near  the  house,  and 
simply  because  of  this,  land  holders  have  been  known 
to  pack  up,  bag,  baggage,  and  agricultural  imple- 
ments, and  move  into  another  district. 


[175] 


XIII 

THE  HINTERLAND  OF  HOLLAND 

IF  Friesland  be  considered  the  frontier  of  Holland's 
tourist  territory,  the  provinces  of  Groningen, 
Drenthe,  and  Over-Yssel  certainly  constitute  its 
hinterland. 

With  the  exception  of  one  or  two  towns  they  lack 
the  symmetry  of  scenery,  the  quaintness  of  costumes, 
the  masterpieces  of  art  that  adapt  the  provinces 
west  of  the  Zuyder  Zee  to  intensive  sight-seeing,  so 
to  speak,  while  their  peoples  differ  in  manner  so 
much  from  those  in  the  west  that  you  seem  to  be 
traveling  through  another  country  altogether.  Old 
buildings  they  have  in  plenty,  and  rural  and  urban 
beauty  spots  may  be  discovered  here  and  there,  but 
taken  by  and  large,  they  offer  fewer  attractions  for 
and  cater  less  to  the  invasion  of  the  tourist  than  any 
portion  of  Holland. 

For  the  above  reason,  in  planning  a  trip  through 
this  land  of  the  brave  and  the  home  of  the  sea, 
it  might  be  well,  if  practicable,  to  tap  these  three 
provinces  at  the  beginning,  embellishing  first  impres- 
sions by  reversing  the  time-honored  route  and  return- 
ing, instead  of  advancing,  through  North  and  South 

[176] 


THE   HINTERLAND    OF   HOLLAND 

Holland,  Utrecht,  North  Brabant,  and  Zeeland,  and 
spending  a  profitable  day  at  least  on  the  Island  of 
Walcheren  as  a  kind  of  tasteful  cordial  after  the 
seven  course  tour. 

Groningen,  the  capital  of  the  province  of  the  same 
name,  shares  the  distinction  with  Leyden  and  Utrecht 
in  being  one  of  the  three  university  towns  in  Holland. 
Although  twice  as  large  as  Leeuwarden,  it  is  barely 
half  as  interesting.  It  seems,  too,  a  vastly  more 
modern  place,  with  its  trolley  service,  its  large  assort- 
ment of  wide  streets,  its  apparent  dearth  of  silent 
canals,  while  its  narrow,  busy  Heerestraat  emulates 
the  examples  set  by  the  Kalverstraat  in  Amsterdam 
and  the  Spuistraat  in  The  Hague. 

Its  university,  established  in  1614,  is  attended  by 
half  a  thousand  students,  and  has  within  recent 
years  moved  into  more  commodious  and  modern 
quarters  in  the  form  of  an  appropriate  and  hand- 
some building  erected  in  1850.  Among  the  treasures 
of  its  library,  housed  in  a  separate  building,  is  to  be 
found  a  copy  of  the  revised  New  Testament  by 
Erasmus,  bearing  marginal  annotations  in  the  hand- 
writing of  Martin  Luther.  This  much  for  learning. 
With  respect  to  art,  Groningen  is  the  birthplace  of 
two  of  Holland's  best  known  modern  painters,  H.  W. 
Mesdag  and  Josef  Israels,  the  latter  being  especially 
distinguished  for  his  ability  to  record  upon  canvas 
the  sadder  aspects  of  humble  life.  At  the  advanced 
age  of  eighty-seven  this  master  of  his  craft  died 
[177] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

during  the  past  summer  in  The  Hague,  where  he  had 
resided  for  a  number  of  years. 

At  the  foot  of  the  tower  of  the  church  of  St. 
Martin  on  the  edge  of  the  market  square  stands  the 
old  regthuis,  a  small  brick  building  of  early  sixteenth 
century  erection,  lately  restored  and  put  into  use  as 
a  guardhouse.  With  its  green  and  white  shutters 
of  diamond  design  it  looks  strangely  out  of  place 
as  the  opponent  of  a  building  of  such  conglomerate 
architecture  as  the  columned  stadthuis,  on  the  west- 
ern side  of  the  square.  Grain  being  one  of  the 
staple  commodities  of  the  place,  one  end  of  the 
visch-markt  is  bounded  by  the  corn  exchange.  Be- 
hind this  stands  the  Aa-Kerk,  of  Gothic  construction 
and  thirteenth  century  origin.  And,  as  is  the  habit 
with  many  of  the  towns  in  this  section  of  Holland, 
Groningen  has  made  the  most  of  the  site  of  her  old 
ramparts  and  city  fortifications  by  transforming  it 
into  a  public  park. 

Without  the  least  savor  of  favoritism,  Groningen 
might  easily  capture  the  palm  for  supporting  about 
the  most  uninteresting  market  in  Holland.  Held  in 
the  great  square  that  serves  the  town  as  a  center  for 
outdoor  business  transactions  and  trolley  service,  it 
is  a  market  of  everything  and  a  market  of  nothing. 
It  looks  as  if  all  the  shopkeepers  had  put  up  tents 
and  transferred  their  stock  from  their  shops  to  the 
street.  Here  they  sell  anything  from  cucumbers  to 
cocoanuts,  from  stepladders  to  safety  matches — a 
[178] 


THE   HINTERLAND    OF   HOLLAND 

nondescript  assortment  of  edibles,  cooking  utensils, 
secondhand  clothing,  cheap  crockery,  old  books,  and 
umbrellas.  There  are  no  types  to  speak  of,  and  the 
place  reeks  with  the  essence  of  small  and  insignificant 
bargaining.  The  hotel  at  which  I  registered  in 
Groningen  was  centrally  located — too  centrally,  in 
fact — on  the  market  square.  Just  in  front  along  the 
curb  a  purveyor  of  dried  fish  held  forth  in  his  tent. 
The  breeze  was  blowing  gently,  and  the  hotel  stood 
to  the  leeward  of  the  dried  fish  purveyor.  As  Sam 
Bernard  would  say,  "  Sufficiency ! " 

The  railway  line  from  Groningen  down  through 
Assen  and  Meppel  to  Zwolle  penetrates  a  flat,  barren, 
unattractive-looking  country  which,  in  places,  might 
be  mistaken  for  the  "  meadows  "  near  Atlantic  City. 
The  roadbed  of  the  railway  itself  is  the  worst  in  the 
world — at  least  I  think  it  is  the  worst  in  the  world, 
although  the  allegation  may  arouse  the  envy  of  one 
or  two  Mexican  roadbeds  that  I  am  no  longer  on 
speaking  terms  with,  each  of  which  claims  the  same 
distinction.  The  engineers  who  were  responsible  for 
this  piece  of  track,  through  a  perfectly  flat  country 
with  no  curves  or  grades  to  cope  with,  could  hardly 
have  done  much  worse.  It  is  even  beyond  the  powers 
of  the  imagination  how  they  contrived  to  make  it  as 
bad  as  it  is.  Its  construction  reminds  one  vaguely 
of  the  story  of  the  "jealous  pie,"  whose  top  and 
lower  crusts  grew  jealous  of  each  other  for  fear 
something  might  come  between  them.  So  with  this 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

railway.  If  one  rail  bulges  outward  a  little  the 
other  rail  bulges  inward  sympathetically.  And 
it  is  fortunate  that  they  are  so  attached  to  each 
other,  because  if  one  rail  bulged  outward  and  the 
other  rail  likewise  bulged  outward  at  the  same  point 
we  might  not  be  here  to  tell  of  it. 

Neither  is  the  tediousness  of  the  two-hour  ride 
relieved  at  all  by  the  congeniality  of  one's  traveling 
companions.  For  the  information  of  the  prospective 
tourist  through  Holland  it  might  be  well  to  state  in 
this  connection  that  smoking  is  only  forbidden  in 
those  few  and  far-between  compartments  of  the  rail- 
way carriage  marked  "  Niet  Rooken."  In  all  others, 
whether  labeled  "  Rooken  "  or  not,  whether  occupied 
by  men,  women,  or  children,  smoking  is  not  only  per- 
mitted but  encouraged;  and  however  vigorous  and 
healthy  a  Hollander  may  be,  his  one  weak  point  is 
his  aversion  to  ventilation.  In  this  matter  he  may 
be  likened  to  the  elephant  afraid  of  a  mouse.  Con- 
sequently, the  first  move  he  makes  when  he  enters  the 
compartment  is  to  close  both  windows.  If  he  lacks 
the  boorishness  to  reach  over  deliberately  and  try  to 
curtail  your  supply  of  fresh  air,  which  is  not  often, 
he  will  huddle  himself  in  a  corner  as  far  from  the 
offending  draft  as  possible,  and  eye  you  up  and  down 
for  your  failure  to  appreciate  his  position. 

For  the  full  distance  from  Groningen  to  Zwolle  I 
traveled  in  the  same  compartment  with  three  of  the 
most  rabid  stale  air  agitators  I  have  ever  run  afoul 

[180] 


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THE    HINTERLAND    OF   HOLLAND 

of.  To  make  matters  worse,  one  was  highly  per- 
fumed with  a  mixture  of  musk  and  mint,  and  wore 
the  nails  of  his  little  fingers  long — half  an  inch  would 
not  be  an  exaggeration — as  some  sort  of  a  mark  of 
caste,  possibly  borrowed  from  the  Chinese.  During 
the  trip  they  tried  to  make  things  as  blithe  and  agree- 
able for  me  as  possible — although  with  the  opposite 
intent,  judging  from  several  remarks  which  I  finally 
succeeded  in  translating — by  giving  a  variety  of  imi- 
tations of  various  barnyard  animals  because  I  guarded 
one  open  window  with  my  life. 

All  through  the  province  of  Drenthe  the  sources 
of  another  industry  in  which  little  Holland  is  pre- 
eminent may  be  seen  from  the  car  windows — the 
great  peat  bogs.  Upon  peat  the  Dutch  housewife 
must  rely  for  her  fuel,  for  the  coal  mines  in  the 
Netherlands  are  next  thing  to  null  and  void ;  so  the 
preparation  of  peat  has  become  at  once  an  art  and 
an  industry.  Towns  and  hamlets  are  named  for  it — 
"  veen  "  with  an  appropriate  prefix.  It  is  as  indi- 
gent to  Holland  as  the  wild  turkey  to  the  mountains 
of  Virginia.  But,  instead  of  striving  to  eliminate 
as  quickly  as  possible  a  very  essential  natural  re- 
source, the  Dutch  have  developed  the  scientific  culti- 
vation of  peat  and  made  the  vast  bogs  into  almost 
inexhaustible  producers  of  fuel. 

The  lighter,  more  fibrous  peat,  laagveen,  in  Dutch 
— found  several  feet  in  thickness  in  the  eastern  part 
of  Groningen,  all  through  Drenthe,  and  even  stretch- 

[181] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

ing  well  across  the  German  border — is  contrasted 
with  the  dry  peat,  or  hoogeveen,  underlying  a  thick 
layer  of  clay.  In  the  case  of  the  latter,  the  layer 
of  clay  is  removed  carefully,  the  peat  is  dredged  from 
under  it,  and  what  water  remains  is  drained  off. 
The  peat  is  then  spread  upon  the  ground  and  worked 
by  foot  pressure  until  the  process,  assisted  by  ex- 
posure to  the  sun,  brings  it  to  a  certain  consistency. 
It  is  then  cut  into  convenient  lengths,  stacked,  and 
allowed  to  dry.  In  the  meantime  the  layer  of  clay 
has  been  mixed  with  sand,  replaced,  and  planted  with 
crops.  With  respect  to  the  bog  peat,  the  fen  is  first 
surrounded  with  a  canal  for  drainage  purposes ;  also 
the  plant  putrefaction  is  assisted  by  successive  re- 
formations of  soil  from  city  refuse,  laden  with  which 
the  peat  boats  return  to  the  fens. 

The  bait  with  which  Assen,  the  capital  of  the 
province  of  Drenthe,  should  lure  the  tourist  to  stop 
off,  if  only  between  trains,  is  the  church  of  an  ancient 
nunnery  suppressed  during  the  Reformation.  This 
relic,  with  a  fragment  of  the  old  cloisters  still  attached 
to  it,  has  been  transformed  into  Assen's  Town  Hall, 
and  forms  a  part  of  the  adjoining  provincial  offices 
erected  on  the  site  of  the  nunnery.  The  great  tu- 
muli, or  so-called  "giants'  caves,"  within  half  an 
hour's  drive  from  Assen,  and  marked  with  huge 
boulders  borne  down  by  the  glaciers  from  Scandi- 
navia, are  of  interest  more  to  the  profound  archeolo- 
gist  than  to  the  ordinary  sight-seer. 

[182] 


THE   HINTERLAND    OF   HOLLAND 

Meppel,  farther  down,  is  a  peat  town  of  no  artistic 
or  historical  importance,  although  it  is  the  junction 
of  the  peat  and  the  butter  routes  through  the  hinter- 
land. From  it  the  traveler  may  journey  up  through 
the  butter  district  direct  to  Leeuwarden,  or  he  may 
break  through  the  peat  country  on  another  line  to 
Groningen. 

Zwolle,  the  first  stop  below  Meppel,  is  an  attrac- 
tive town,  but  with  fewer  types  even  than  Groningen. 
Here  the  familiar  windmills  and  wooden  shoes  begin 
to  diminish  perceptibly  in  numbers.  With  its  32,000 
inhabitants,  Zwolle  is  but  a  shade  smaller  than  Leeu- 
warden. It  is  the  capital  of  the  province  of  Over- 
Yssel  and  was  the  birthplace  of  Gerard  Terburg,  one 
of  Holland's  celebrated  seventeenth  century  wielders 
of  the  brush  and  crayon.  But  like  too  many  other 
towns  in  the  Netherlands,  Zwolle  has  been  so  short- 
sighted and  so  remiss  in  her  duty  that  she  has  failed 
to  preserve  for  public  appreciation  a  single  example 
of  the  work  of  her  most  famous  son. 

The  most  striking  architectural  feature  of  the 
town  is  her  old  Sassen-Poort,  or  Saxon  gateway,  the 
five  Gothic  spires  of  which  tend  to  relieve  any 
monotony  of  city  skyline.  It  stands  but  a  short  dis- 
tance from  the  station,  framed  behind  a  green  mat 
of  trees  that  lends  a  pleasant  contrast  to  its  diamond 
window  shutters  of  delicate  blue  and  spotless  white. 
The  modern  stone  bridge  across  the  canal  just  in 
front,  although  forming  rather  an  inappropriate 
[183] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

approach  to  the  old  tower,  is  one  of  the  most  artistic 
in  all  Holland. 

Upon  a  certain  warm,  sunlit  morning  I  crossed 
this  bridge  and  turned  down  along  the  canal,  fol- 
lowing one  of  the  many  labyrinthian  pathways  under 
the  spreading  trees.  Soon  I  came  upon  what  anyone 
on  not  too  familiar  terms  with  the  customs  of  the 
country  might  have  supposed  to  be  a  public  cafe. 
It  was  neither  fenced  nor  hedged  in,  and  the  path  I 
was  following  led  straight  as  a  die  to  its  low,  broad 
veranda,  carpeted  and  freely  sprinkled  with  com- 
fortable wicker  chairs.  Little  round  tables  were  scat- 
tered here  and  there,  and  I  concluded  that  the  place 
lacked  nothing  for  the  enjoyment  of  a  glass  of  liquid 
refreshment. 

Accordingly,  I  followed  the  course  of  least  re- 
sistance, and  presently  found  myself  reclining  deeply 
and  luxuriously  in  one  of  the  wicker  armchairs  on 
the  veranda. 

After  a  short  struggle,  my  thirst  overcame  my 
lethargy,  and  I  summoned  enough  energy  to  push  a 
convenient  electric  button. 

No  response. 

A  second,  and  then  a  third  push  at  the  button. 

Still  no  response. 

As  a  drastic  last  resort,  I  arose  with  no  little 
effort,  and  wended  my  angry  way  into  the  building 
to  ascertain  the  cause  for  such  delinquent  service. 

I  was  approached  by  a  gentleman  who,  having 
[184] 


The  best  of  Kampen's  gateways,  of  which  architectural  features 
the  town  originally  possessed  seven 


THE   HINTERLAND    OF   HOLLAND 

observed  my  impatience,  had  come  to  my  rescue  from 
his  little  secluded  comer  in  the  reading  room. 

In  my  very  best  Dutch — my  vocabulary  consists 
of  some  three  or  four  words — I  asked  the  gentleman 
where  on  earth  the  waiter  might  be  in  hiding.  In 
his  very  best  English  the  gentleman  replied  politely 
that  the  place  was  a  private  club  and  not  a  public 
grogshop.  Whereupon,  I  could  have  accomplished 
an  exit  through  any  convenient  keyhole  without  the 
least  pinching. 

Near  Zwolle,  in  a  monastery  on  the  Agnetenberg, 
reached  after  a  drive  of  three  or  four  miles  from  the 
town,  lived  and  died  Thomas  a  Kempis,  the  author 
of  "  The  Imitation  of  Christ " — a  work  that  has  been 
translated  into  almost  every  tongue. 

A  short  ride  in  the  train  from  Zwolle  brings  you 
to  Kampen,  on  the  broad  Yssel  at  its  point  of 
discharge  into  the  Zuyder  Zee.  It  is  Holland's 
home  town  of  ancient  gateways,  no  less  than  three 
of  which,  leading  out  into  the  park  that  has  super- 
seded the  old  fortifications,  are  in  excellent  state  of 
preservation  and  worthy  of  study  from  an  archi- 
tectural point  of  view.  Originally  the  town  pos- 
sessed seven  of  these  gates,  and  there  might  have 
been  fourteen,  had  the  City  Council  listened  to  a 
learned  one  of  its  members  who  arose  at  a  certain 
meeting  and  proposed  that  they  double  the  original 
number;  for,  he  argued,  had  not  each  of  the  seven 
gates  contributed  its  10,000,000  florins  a  year  to  the 

[185] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

town  treasury  in  the  shape  of  taxes  upon  merchandise 
and  produce  passing  through  it?  Therefore,  it 
would  be  a  simple  matter  to  double  the  town's  reve- 
nue, for  all  they  had  to  do  was  to  double  the  number 
of  gates. 

But  the  rank  and  file  of  tourists  that  include 
Kampen  in  their  itineraries  come  to  view  its  Town 
Hall,  a  venerable  building  erected  in  the  fourteenth 
century,  restored  after  a  devastating  fire  in  1543, 
and  which  may  be  numbered  to-day  among  the  most 
characteristic  curiosities  in  the  Netherlands.  Among 
the  features  of  its  Gothic  facade  are  six  statues  in 
stone,  dating  from  the  original  building.  From  left 
to  right  these  may  be  recognized  as  the  effigies  of 
Charlemagne  and  Alexander  the  Great  and  the  char- 
acterizations of  Moderation,  Fidelity,  Justice,  and 
Neighborly  Love.  One  of  the  windows  of  the  weather- 
stained  edifice  still  remains  trellised  with  iron  as  in 
the  days  of  Kampen's  olden  time  importance.  The 
interior  contains  a  medieval  council  room  with  mag- 
istrates' seats  of  oak,  handsomely  carved,  and  a 
gigantic  chimney  piece,  unfortunately  overladen  with 
ornaments. 

Kampen  stripped  of  its  gateways  and  its  Town 
Hall  would  scarcely  be  worth  the  time  spent  to  reach 
it.  The  town  itself  seems  to  be  given  up  to  small  man- 
ufacturing establishments,  and  its  people  made  up  of 
the  class  that  keeps  them  in  operation.  But  the 
fine  architectural  relics  of  its  earlier  days  raise  its 
[186] 


instructive  power  to  as  high  a  degree  as  that  of 
any  town  now  within  Holland's  tourist  area. 

From  Kampen  you  may  take  a  steamer  out  across 
the  Zuyder  Zee  to  the  Island  of  Urk,  inhabited  by 
a  colony  of  daring  fishermen  who  are  less  spoiled, 
yet  whose  costumes  and  customs  are  less  interesting, 
than  those  of  the  people  of  Marken.  But  you  will 
have  to  hurry  if  you  wish  to  pay  it  a  visit,  for 
Urk  will  soon  go  the  way  of  Schokland,  an  island 
nearer  to  Kampen,  the  habitation  of  which  has  re- 
cently been  forbidden  by  the  government  on  account 
of  the  imminent  prospects  of  total  encroachment  by 
the  sea.  To-day  Urk  is  tussling  for  life  with  every 
tide ;  it  may  be  merely  a  question  of  months,  perhaps 
of  weeks  or  days,  before  its  people  will  be  compelled 
to  give  up  their  homes  and  move  to  the  less  dangerous 
mainland. 

Eighteen  and  a  half  miles  south  of  Zwolle,  still 
on  the  river  Yssel,  and  just  across  the  frontier  of 
Gelderland,  lies  Deventer,  noted  commercially  for  a 
rather  incongruous  assortment  of  enterprises:  iron, 
carpets,  and  honey  cakes.  A  weigh-house,  abnor- 
mally large  for  a  town  of  Deventer's  size,  having  a 
great  flight  of  steps  ascending  to  its  entrance  from 
the  Brink,  the  principal  square  of  the  town,  has  been 
converted  into  a  gymnasium.  Also  facing  the  Brink 
are  several  handsome  private  houses  of  seventeenth 
century  erection.  Deventer,  strange  to  say,  seems  to 
be  most  athletically  inclined ;  it  maintains  no  less  than 
[187] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

fifty  different  association  football  clubs,  which  strive 
with  each  other  for  the  title  of  champion  on  the 
many  athletic  fields  along  the  banks  of  the  Yssel. 

After  years  of  study  in  Spain  and  other  foreign 
lands,  after  a  lengthy  residence  in  Haarlem,  and  his 
experiences  in  the  studio  as  co-worker  with  Franz 
Hals,  to  Deventer  came  Gerard  Terburg,  where  he 
finally  settled  down  and  where  he  died  in  1681  at  the 
age  of  sixty-four.  Unlike  Rembrandt,  Hals  Holbein, 
and  Jan  Steen,  Terburg  took  a  lively  interest  in  public 
and  municipal  affairs,  and  in  his  later  years  he  served 
his  adopted  city  as  Burgomaster. 


[188] 


XIV 

GELDERLAND 

FROM  Deventer  to  Apeldoorn  is  simply  a  matter 
of  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  a  railway  carriage 
which  now  darts  past  so  many  fields  of  grain, 
now  past  so  many  fine  old  woods  and  terraced  summer 
homes  that  the  effect  upon  the  tourist  is  kaleidoscopic 
— like  being  shot  through  a  Christmas  wreath. 

Apeldoorn  is  a  beautiful  little  city,  very  much  un- 
like what  might  be  expected  of  Holland,  since  its 
canals  are  few  and  its  windmills  at  a  premium.  Its 
streets  remind  one  more  of  those  of  an  English  village. 
Its  outskirts  and  environs  are  freely  sprinkled  with 
attractive  country  homes  and  villas  belonging  to 
that  class  of  Hollanders  that  passes  its  time,  for  one 
purpose  or  another,  hovering  in  the  neighborhood  of 
royalty,  for  near  by  at  Het  Loo  the  Queen  is  wont 
to  summer.  The  town's  two  parks,  named  appropri- 
ately Oranje  and  Wilhelmina,  present  effects  in  land- 
scape gardening  incomparable  with  those  of  almost 
any  other  parks  in  Holland,  and  the  broad  avenues 
that  lead  out  to  Her  Majesty's  palace  are  barely 
surpassed  in  beauty  even  by  the  Old  Way  from  The 
Hague  to  Scheveningen.  Like  the  spokes  of  a  wheel 
[189] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

their  shaded  roadways  stretch  straight  as  a  die,  with 
the  palace  of  Het  Loo  as  their  common  hub. 

Pensions  and  private  villas  are  as  thick  in  and 
about  Apeldoorn  as  seventeen-year  locusts.  Each 
has  its  velvety  lawn ;  each  its  variegated  flower  gar- 
den. Apparently  the  town  boasts  of  everything  to 
make  the  lives  of  its  summer  residents  one  blissful 
dream  of  being  some  day  bidden  to  dinner  or  tea 
at  the  dazzling  white  palace  at  the  end  of  the  avenue. 
I  imagine  the  sanitary  arrangements  of  some  of 
the  summer  homes  of  these  pseudo  patrons  of  royalty 
must  be  primitive  in  the  extreme.  This  may  or  may 
not  be  a  criterion  by  which  to  judge  the  others,  but, 
as  I  drove  by  the  estate  of  one  of  Apeldoorn's  nabobs, 
a  maidservant  appeared  upon  the  second-story  bal- 
cony and  emptied  the  contents  of  a  pocket  folding 
rubber  bath  tub  full  upon  the  lawn  in  front — any- 
thing but  a  discreet  exhibition,  to  say  the  least 
about  it. 

Het  Loo,  or  The  Grove,  was  the  favorite  palace  of 
Wilhelmina's  father,  William  III,  and  of  his  grand- 
father, William  I,  the  first  King  of  the  Netherlands. 
A  steam  tram  operates  upon  rather  uncertain  sched- 
ule between  the  railway  station  at  Apeldoorn  and 
Het  Loo,  but  a  much  more  pleasant  method  of  con- 
suming the  time,  if  only  between  trains,  is  to  drive 
by  carriage  out  the  long  avenue,  returning  through 
the  parks  of  Apeldoorn. 

The  peasants  of  the  surrounding  country  are 
[190] 


GELDERLAND 


of  purely  agricultural  proclivities,  and  their  land 
seems  more  like  real  farm  land  than  the  lower  level 
portions  of  the  Netherlands.  Apeldoorn  itself  lies 
in  the  district  known  as  the  Veluwe,  a  territory  be- 
tween the  Yssel  and  the  Zuyder  Zee,  in  places  as 
much  as  three  hundred  feet  above  the  level  of  the 
ocean  and,  with  few  exceptions,  the  highest  in  Hol- 
land. Parts  of  it,  however,  are  so  sandy  and  sterile 
that  the  ground  is  available  after  complete  fertiliza- 
tion mainly  for  the  cultivation  of  tobacco. 

Zutphen,  a  few  miles  below  Apeldoorn,  was  the 
first  city  in  the  east  to  offer  any  speakable  resistance 
against  the  Spaniards  during  the  war  of  independence, 
and  there  still  stands  the  gateway,  called  the  Nieuw- 
stadtspoort,  through  which  Don  Frederic  of  Toledo, 
the  son  of  the  notorious  Duke  of  Alva,  forced  an 
entrance  into  the  town  on  the  16th  day  of  Novem- 
ber, 1572.  Mons  and  Mechlin  having  been  captured 
and  promptly  sacked,  Alva  had  repaired  to  Nym- 
wegen,  leaving  Don  Frederic  to  conquer  the  prov- 
inces in  the  north  and  east — preferably  by  force,  for 
they  were  a  blood-thirsty  lot,  those  Spaniards.  A 
seeming  lack  of  patriotism  on  the  parts  of  the  cities 
which  had  already  submitted,  too  enthusiastically 
perhaps,  to  the  Spaniards,  gave  these  international 
marauders  little  excuse  to  resort  to  their  usual  heinous 
methods  of  effecting  subjugation. 

When  Zutphen,  therefore,  offered  a  feeble  and  half- 
hearted resistance  against  the  troops  of  Frederic  of 

[191] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Toledo,  and  the  fact  was  reported  to  his  father,  the 
commander  in  chief  and  arch  brigand  of  the  whole 
depredating  crew,  he  promptly  sent  orders  to  his  son 
to  enter  the  city  and  kill  every  man  and  burn  every 
house  to  the  ground.  According  to  Motley,  "  the 
Duke's  command  was  almost  literally  obeyed.  Don 
Frederic  entered  Zutphen,  and  without  a  moment's 
warning  put  the  whole  garrison  to  the  sword.  The 
citizens  next  fell  a  defenseless  prey;  some  being 
stabbed  in  the  streets,  some  hanged  on  the  trees  which 
decorated  the  city,  some  stripped  stark  naked  and 
turned  out  into  the  fields  to  freeze  to  death  in  the 
wintry  night.  As  the  work  of  death  became  too 
fatiguing  for  the  butchers,  five  hundred  innocent 
burghers  were  tied  two  and  two,  back  to  back,  and 
drowned  like  dogs  in  the  river  Yssel.  A  few  strag- 
glers who  had  contrived  to  elude  pursuit  at  first,  were 
afterwards  taken  from  their  hiding-places  and  hung 
upon  the  gallows  by  their  feet,  some  of  which  victims 
suffered  four  days  and  nights  of  agony  before  death 
came  to  their  relief." 

To-day  Zutphen  is  a  quiet  old  city,  very  un-Dutch, 
if  the  expression  may  be  permitted,  with  many  nar- 
row, crooked  streets  and  a  few  canals  of  varying 
degrees  of  picturesqueness  on  its  outskirts.  Lumber 
is  the  principal  industry  of  the  place,  and  a  great 
deal  of  poplar  wood  which  goes  to  supply  the  wooden 
shoes  for  many  parts  of  Holland  is  shipped  from 
Zutphen. 

[192] 


GELDERLAND 


Arnhem  on  the  Rhine  is  the  most  thriving  town 
as  well  as  the  capital  of  Gelderland.  It  is  essentially 
an  ancient  place,  dating  back  to  a  remote  period  in 
the  history  of  the  Netherlands;  even  some  there  be 
who  give  Arnhem  the  credit  of  being  the  original 
Arenacum  of  the  Romans.  It  lies  upon  the  southern 
slopes  of  the  Veluwe  district,  and  from  its  railway 
station  the  visitor  will  actually  have  to  go  down  hill 
into  the  town — a  topographical  condition  so  foreign 
to  any  of  the  other  Dutch  cities  already  visited  that 
Arnhem's  allegiance  to  Holland  is  questioned  at  first 
sight. 

Although  Arnhem  is  old,  it  lacks  many  of  those 
gifts  of  age  that  one  sees  in  other  old  cities  through- 
out the  country.  Its  appearance  is  German,  but  its 
people,  realizing  the  monetary  benefits  that  rival 
Dutch  municipalities  are  deriving  annually  from  the 
hordes  of  tourists  that  descend  upon  them,  try  to  ad- 
vertise it  as  typically  Dutch,  and  issue  frantic  appeals 
to  the  traveler  to  be  sure  to  pay  it  a  visit  on  these 
grounds.  With  its  60,000  inhabitants  it  is  the  sixth 
city  in  point  of  population  in  Holland.  Although 
it  enjoys  every  advantage  of  transportation  its  com- 
merce is  pitiable;  as  a  residence  city,  however,  it  is 
particularly  favored.  Because  of  the  attractions  of 
its  environs,  Arnhem  is  a  favorite  spot  for  the  retired 
Dutch  merchant,  who,  having  amassed  a  fortune  in 
the  colonial  trade  after  a  long  residence  in  the  remote 
Straits  Settlements,  seeks  some  quiet  place  at  home 
[193] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

endowed  with  the  beauties  of  nature,  in  which  to  spend 
the  remainder  of  his  days  in  comfort. 

The  oldest  part  of  Arnhem  is  the  southern  end 
of  the  city,  bordering  on  the  Rhine  and  clustering 
about  the  Groote  Markt  as  a  center.  The  Groote 
Kerk,  an  ecclesiastical  building  of  large  parts  and 
deep  excavations,  containing  numerous  monuments 
in  memory  of  various  historical  celebrities,  bounds  the 
market  square  on  the  west,  and  on  the  south  one  may 
pierce  the  surrounding  buildings  to  the  Eusibius 
Square  and  the  Rhine  bank  through  the  ancient  Sabil- 
Poort,  a  Gothic  gateway  recalling  the  days  when  Arn- 
hem was  fortified  with  the  customary  town  wall. 

At  the  side  of  the  Groote  Kerk  Arnhem  holds  a 
weekly  market  which  is  scarcely  more  distinctive  than 
that  of  Groningen  but  so  popular  with  the  peasants 
that  it  overflows  into  the  neighboring  streets,  and 
places  trolley  service  through  the  vicinity  in  a  state 
of  disruption.  Having  driven  into  town  the  evening 
before,  the  country  people  unhitch  their  horses  and 
leave  their  wagons  standing  in  the  square  so  as  to 
lose  no  time  in  getting  ready  for  business  in  the 
morning.  Much  faith  they  must  have  in  the  honesty 
and  orderliness  of  the  citizens  of  Arnhem,  for  their 
loads  of  vegetables  and  whatever  they  have  for  sale 
remain  in  the  open,  when  the  weather  is  propitious, 
without  even  a  covering. 

A  few  blocks  to  the  east  of  the  market  square  lies 
the  Eusibiusbinnensingel,  a  beautiful  park-like  place, 

[194] 


GELDERLAND 


but  a  mouthful  to  pronounce,  with  a  lake  in  the 
center  surrounded  by  great  shade  trees  and  geometri- 
cal flower  plots.  If  you  follow  this  to  the  northward, 
you  will  come,  after  a  short  walk,  to  the  Velper 
Plein,  the  pulse  of  Arnhem's  trolley  traffic,  the  prin- 
cipal feature  of  which  is  a  large  building  that  goes 
under  the  poetical  name  of  the  Musis  Sacrum,  con- 
taining a  restaurant  and  various  halls  for  exhibitions. 
Here  at  the  tables  of  the  open  air  cafe  the  German 
tourists  are  wont  to  forgather  for  refreshment  pur- 
poses, guarding  the  while  their  little  ten-by-two-inch 
satchels,  scarcely  large  enough  to  hold  half  a  dozen 
cigars,  as  if  they  contained  the  entire  wardrobe  and 
family  jewels  of  their  owners. 

In  the  Velperplein  one  may  board  an  electric  car 
for  any  part  of  the  city  and  many  of  its  suburbs. 
And  it  is  best  to  patronize  the  trolley  service  of 
Arnhem  whenever  possible,  because  taxicabs,  horse 
drawn  or  motor  propelled,  are  not  to  be  found  in 
operation.  The  buccaneering  cabbies  of  Arnhem, 
next  of  kin  to  the  piratical  baggage  porters  of  Fiume, 
charge  a  goodly  price  to  take  you  out  upon  a  drive 
in  the  environs,  and  double  the  amount  to  bring  you 
back,  on  the  ground  that  your  ignorance  of  their 
language,  not  considering  their  ignorance  of  yours, 
was  the  cause  of  a  misinterpretation  of  directions. 
And  the  worst  of  this  tourist  bleeding  system  is  that 
the  hotel  head  porters  connive  with  the  cabbies. 

On  top  of  a  real  hill  half  a  mile  to  the  north  of 
[195] 


WINDMILLS    AND    WOODEN    SHOES 

the  railway  station  is  Sonsbeck,  a  favorite  rendezvous 
of  the  pleasure-seeking  Arnhemers,  thickly  wooded, 
containing  a  small  lake  or  two,  and,  of  course,  the 
inevitable  cafe,  while  the  ascent  of  a  tower  called  the 
Belvedere  is  offered  as  a  temptation  only  to  those 
who  expect  to  obtain  a  magnificent  and  inspiring  view 
where  only  a  mediocre  one  exists. 

The  Velperweg,  the  Amsterdamschestraatweg — but 
if  this  kind  of  thing  goes  on  it  might  tangle  my  type 
into  a  knotted,  inextricable  mass ;  for  purely  mechan- 
ical reasons,  therefore,  I  shall  revert  to  an  English 
version.  The  Velper  Road,  the  Amsterdam  Road,  the 
Zyp  Road,  the  Utrecht  Road,  and  the  Apeldoorn 
Road  are  the  five  principal  arteries  that  tap  the  en- 
virons that  have  made  Arnhem  famous  with  the 
Dutchman.  Each  one  penetrates  imposing  woods, 
the  like  of  which  the  Hollander  never  saw  before, 
but  ruthlessly  tramped  almost  threadbare  by  his  fre- 
quent pilgrimages  through  them  in  search  of  a 
"  panorama,"  no  matter  how  insignificant.  At  the 
different  points  where  the  foliage  permits  of  a  view 
of  sometimes  several  miles  across  the  wheat  fields, 
fruit  venders  have  set  up  their  stands,  the  ground  is 
littered  with  papers  and  the  empty  boxes  discarded 
by  many  picnicers,  and  the  importunate  picture  post- 
card man  is  seen  in  his  element. 

The  Velp  Road,  which  leads  at  length  to  Zutphen, 
is,  perhaps,  the  gem  of  all  the  five.  Wide  and  well 
kept,  it  is  lined  on  either  side  as  far  as  the  village 

[196] 


Bi 


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£  « 
133 


GELDERLAND 


of  Velp,  a  distance  of  three  miles  from  Arnhem,  with 
handsome  residences  and  tastefully  laid  out  lawns 
and  gardens  which  are  girt  with  small  canals  in  lieu 
of  fences,  so  that  each  may  be  admired  from  the 
roadway. 

Halfway  along  is  Bronbeek,  the  royal  asylum  for 
invalid  soldiers  who  have  served  in  the  colonial  wars. 
It  was  bought  by  King  William  III  in  1854  from  its 
private  owners,  and  presented  by  him  to  the  State  five 
years  later  on  condition  that  it  be  devoted  to  its 
present  purpose.  Little  cascades  trickle  here  and 
there  through  its  grounds,  while  the  pair  of  cannon 
mounted  on  its  front  lawn  bespeaks  its  use  as  no 
blaring  signboard  could  possibly  do.  Not  far  from 
the  corner  entrance  to  its  park  stands  a  statue  of 
William  II  as  Crown  Prince,  portrayed  as  carrying 
his  arm  in  a  sling  after  having  received  a  wound  in 
the  battle  of  Waterloo.  The  interior  of  the  building 
contains  collections  of  portraits  of  East  Indian 
heroes,  and  of  weapons,  flags,  and  other  trophies  of 
war  taken  in  the  colonies. 

Rozendaal,  one  of  the  largest  estates  in  Gelder- 
land,  can  be  reached  after  a  pleasant  walk  of  a  mile 
in  a  northerly  direction  from  Velp.  Mentioned  for 
the  first  time  as  early  as  1314,  its  grounds  are  still 
kept  in  a  state  of  baronial  magnificence,  but  of  its 
old  castle  only  a  comparatively  small  part  of  a  great 
round  tower  remains. 

Another  walk,  but  toward  the  east  on  the  road 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

to  the  village  and  wood  of  Beekhuizen,  brings  you 
to  -the  castle  of  Biljoen,  erected  by  Charles,  Duke  of 
Guelders,  in  1530,  upon  the  foundations  of  an  elev- 
enth century  stronghold. 

Nymwegen  may  be  considered  the  twin  city  of  Arn- 
hem ;  when  one  is  mentioned  the  other  is  instinctively 
thought  of.  They  lie  close  to  each  other,  are  of 
about  the  same  population,  offer  the  same  gen- 
eral aspects,  and  have  played  parts  of  equal  impor- 
tance in  the  general  history  of  the  country ;  but  of  the 
two,  Nymwegen  is  possibly  the  more  diverting.  It  is 
two  cities  in  one — the  older  part  being  purely  Dutch, 
with  its  old  Dutch  buildings  and  a  few  Dutch  types 
which  are  mocked  by  the  declivity  of  some  of  its 
streets ;  the  more  modern  and  larger  part  being  dis- 
tinctively German,  with  its  platzes,  the  general 
distribution  and  embellishment  of  its  thoroughfares, 
and  the  density  of  its  greenery.  The  center  of  this 
German  portion  of  Nymwegen  is  the  Keiser-Karels- 
plein,  a  beautiful  square  from  which  the  different 
streets  radiate ;  but  what  should  be  the  pleasing  quiet 
of  the  neighborhood  is  constantly  and  mercilessly 
broken  by  the  shrieks  of  the  engine  of  a  noisy  tram 
train  that  rattles  around  among  the  trees  as  if  hunt- 
ing in  vain  for  a  convenient  exit. 

Yet  another  example  of  the  very  esthetic  habit 
that  the  Dutch  have  of  demolishing  old  fortifications 
and  planting  the  sites  as  public  pleasure  grounds 
may  be  seen  in  the  Kronenburg  Park,  the  contour  of 

[198] 


GELDERLAND 


whose  slopes  adds  admirably  to  the  general  landscape 
effect.  Down  at  the  bottom  is  a  duck-dotted  lake 
bordered  with  the  benches  that  constitute  the  trysting 
places  of  many  a  young  Nymwegen  couple,  so  un- 
conscious of  any  but  their  own  affairs  that  they  suffer 
old  ladies  to  sit  upon  the  same  bench  and  knit  and 
spy  with  generous  eyes  upon  the  lovers'  advances. 
At  the  farther  edge  of  the  lake  they  have  mercifully 
preserved  one  of  the  sixteen  towers  that  once  strength- 
ened the  town  walls. 

The  Waal,  one  of  the  many  branches  of  the  Rhine, 
is  a  busier  river  at  Nymwegen  than  the  real  Rhine 
is  at  Arnhem.  Tows  of  long,  narrow  boats,  typical 
of  the  Rhine  above  Cologne,  ply  up  and  down  under 
the  great  iron  railway  bridge  and  lend  to  the  city 
more  of  a  German  air  than  ever. 

Overlooking  the  river  some  distance  above  the  rail- 
way bridge  are  the  shady  pleasure  grounds  of  the 
Valkhof,  one  of  the  seven  hills  upon  which  the  city 
of  Nymwegen  was  originally  built  and  where  Charle- 
magne erected  an  imperial  palace,  later  destroyed 
by  the  French  in  1796.  An  interesting  and  pictur- 
esque ruin  is  a  small  fragment  of  the  old  palace 
church,  built  by  Emperor  Frederick  Barbarossa, 
while  near  by  may  be  seen  the  oldest  remnant 
of  ecclesiastical  architecture  in  the  Netherlands — the 
sixteen-sided  Gothic  castle  chapel,  rebuilt  a  number 
of  times  after  being  consecrated  originally  by  Pope 
Leo  III  in  799. 

[199] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Across  what  must  have  been  the  castle  moat  and 
connected  with  the  Valkhof  grounds  by  an  iron 
bridge,  a  tower  of  the  seventeenth  century  affords 
the  people  of  Nymwegen  an  attractive  view  of  which 
they  are  justly  proud,  embracing  as  it  does  the  fertile 
farming  districts  as  far  as  Cleve,  to  the  southeast, 
as  far  as  Arnhem,  to  the  north,  and,  upon  a  clear 
day,  as  many  as  four  rivers :  the  Rhine,  the  Maas,  the 
Waal,  and  the  Yssel. 

The  old  Church  of  St.  Stephen  and  the  brick  gate- 
way that  leads  to  it  from  the  market  square,  the 
weigh-house  with  its  red  and  black  shutters,  the 
Town  Hall,  and  a  number  of  other  old  buildings  in 
the  vicinity  of  the  Groote  Markt  are  all  essentially 
Dutch,  but  for  which  the  visitor  might  easily  imagine 
himself  in  a  German  city. 

With  those  of  Anihem,  however,  Nymwegen's  en- 
virons can  scarcely  hope  to  compete.  The  steam 
tram  that  rattles  around  the  Keiser-Karelplein 
eventually  escapes  the  city  limits  and  climbs  the  long 
hill  to  the  Hotel  Berg  en  Dal,  from  the  vicinity  of 
which  one  may  look  out  upon  a  much  vaunted 
"  panorama  "  that  might  at  least  be  worth  while  under 
certain  conditions.  But  what  with  the  blatant  strum- 
mings  of  an  automatic  piano  that  considers  itself  of 
valuable  assistance  to  the  complete  enjoyment  of  the 
view,  and  the  petty  vibrations  of  a  more  or  less 
popular  photographer  intent  upon  making  likenesses 
of  visitors  in  the  unusual  and  startling  act  of  look- 

[200] 


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GELDERLAND 


ing  from  the  top  of  a  hill  in  Holland,  the  view  is 
rendered  more  of  a  bore  than  a  diversion. 

The  Dutch  province  of  Limburg,  a  narrow  tongue 
of  land  successfully  battled  for  by  the  Dutch  against 
the  Belgians  in  the  war  of  1830-31,  lying  away  to 
the  south  of  Gelderland  and  wedged  in  between  Bel- 
gium on  the  west  and  Germany  on  the  east,  is  so  un- 
Netherlandish,  both  as  to  peoples  and  topograhy, 
that  it  can  scarcely  be  considered  as  a  part  of  the 
Holland  that  the  tourist  expects.  Its  inhabitants 
even  speak  a  low  German  dialect  instead  of  Dutch. 
Futhermore,  it  is  not  on  any  route  that  a  tour 
through  Holland  might  include,  for  Maastricht,  its 
historical  old  capital,  is  on  the  direct  railway  line 
between  Brussels  and  Cologne  and  may  be  more  easily 
visited  from  either  of  those  points  than  from  any 
city  in  Holland  proper. 


[201] 


CHAPTER  XV 

UTKECHT    AND    'S  HERT OGENB OSCH 

THERE  can  be  only  one  reason  for  my  clearing 
my  conscience  of  Utrecht  and  'S  Hertogenbosch 
in  one  and  the  same  chapter.  This  may  or 
may  not  be  apparent  to  him  who  has  already  toured 
Holland,  for  the  two  towns  cannot  be  said  to  be  on 
the  same  line  of  traffic;  they  are  not  even  in  the 
same  province;  neither  are  they  alike  in  appearance. 
Utrecht,  the  capital  of  the  province  of  that  name, 
with  its  canals  and  old  houses,  its  lime  avenues  and 
its  shady  parks,  has  more  of  the  typical  Dutch  ele- 
ment in  its  make-up,  and  can  be  as  easily  reached, 
and  as  profitably,  from  either  Rotterdam  or  Am- 
sterdam. 

'S  Hertogenbosch,  on  the  other  hand,  the  frontier 
town  of  the  southern  provinces,  lies  along  the  route 
that  leads  into  Germany,  and  its  "  windmills  and 
wooden  shoes  "  are  conspicuous  in  their  absence.  It 
seems,  out  of  respect  for  its  geographical  position, 
more  of  a  Belgian  city.  Indeed,  the  Belgians,  unable 
to  conquer  its  Dutch  nomenclature,  long  ago  re- 
christened  the  place,  and  now  it  is  as  often  spoken 
of  by  the  more  euphonious  name  of  Bois  le  Due — a 
[  202  ] 


UTRECHT    AND    'S  H  ERT  O  GE  N  B  O  S  C  H 

merciful  convenience  for  all  of  my  personal  pur- 
poses, because  it  is  as  difficult  to  write  'S  Hertogen- 
bosch  as  it  is  to  pronounce  it.  Since  to  Bois  le  Due 
it  has  been  simplified,  Bois  le  Due  it  shall  be  hence- 
forth called  within  these  pages. 

Now  to  divulge  my  secret  for  treating  Utrecht  and 
Bois  le  Due  in  the  same  chapter:  with  their  famous 
churches  they  are  the  most  important  ecclesiastical 
cities  in  Holland.  Utrecht,  in  addition,  is  a  uni- 
versity town,  a  cattle  center,  and  one  of  the  oldest 
places,  as  well  as  one  of  the  largest,  in  the  Nether- 
lands. In  Roman  times  it  was  known  by  the  Latin 
translation  of  "  The  Ford  of  the  Rhine  " — Trajec- 
tum  ad  Rlienum.  In  the  seventh  century,  under  the 
Frisians,  King  Dagobert  I  founded  here  the  first 
Frisian  church.  Subsequently  the  archbishops  of 
Utrecht  grew  to  be  the  most  powerful  of  medieval 
prelates,  and  their  see  at  an  early  date  became  re- 
nowned for  the  magnificence  of  its  houses  of  wor- 
ship. Utrecht  was  included  in  the  French  province 
of  Lorraine,  was  later  annexed  to  the  German  em- 
pire by  force  of  circumstances,  and  enjoyed  the  dis- 
tinction of  being  a  favorite  residence  of  the  em- 
perors. The  union  of  the  seven  Dutch  provinces  was 
formed  in  Utrecht  in  1579,  under  the  sponsorship  and 
direction  of  John  of  Nassau,  brother  of  William, 
Prince  of  Orange,  to  establish  the  independence  of 
the  Netherlands.  From  that  time  on  until  1593  the 
States  General  assembled  here;  in  that  year  the  seat 
[203] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

of  the  Dutch  Government  was  transferred  to  The 
Hague.  The  most  celebrated  event  in  the  old  city's 
history,  however,  took  place  on  the  llth  of  April, 
1713,  when  the  peace  was  here  concluded  that  ter- 
minated the  Spanish  wars  of  Succession. 

That  much  for  history. 

Twentieth  century  Utrecht  is  different.  Its  old- 
time  importance  as  one  of  the  foremost  commercial 
cities  of  the  Middle  Ages  was  owing  to  its  enviable 
position  on  the  Rhine  where  the  river  wrenches  itself 
into  two  branches — the  Old  Rhine  and  the  Vecht. 
The  former  percolates,  according  to  the  will  and 
calculations  of  the  Dutch  engineers,  into  the  North 
Sea  at  Katwyk,  and  the  Vecht  empties  into  the  Zuy- 
der  Zee,  near  Muiden.  The  city's  commercial  im- 
portance and  activity  have  dwindled  piteously  into 
a  weekly  cattle  market  held  in  the  Vreeburg,  Utrecht's 
great  central  square,  occupying  the  site  of  a  castle 
built  in  1517  by  Emperor  Charles  V. 

With  the  break  of  day  on  Saturday  the  farmers 
from  the  surrounding  country,  "  Jclomped  "  in  more 
varied  styles  of  wooden  shoes  than  you  will  find  in 
any  other  single  town  in  Holland,  begin  to  arrive 
with  their  stock  at  the  Vreeburg.  In  the  night  a 
conglomerate  collection  of  little  side-show  tents  and 
canvas-covered  stalls  for  the  sale  of  almost  every- 
thing, has  sprung  up  like  a  bed  of  mushrooms  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  market  place,  so  that  the  cattle 
dealer,  after  he  has  negotiated  a  substitution  of  stock 

[204] 


Utrecht's  Cathedral,  erected  in  the  eleventh  century  upon  the 
site  of  a  church  founded  in  720 


UTRECHT    AND    'S  H  ERT  O  GE  N  B  O  S  C  H 

for  its  equivalent  in  the  coin  of  the  realm,  may  want 
for  neither  amusement  nor  a  convenient  place  to  pur- 
chase the  hundred  and  one  articles  that  his  better 
seven-eighths  has  cautioned  him  not  to  come  home 
without. 

Singularly  enough,  the  same  methods  obtain  in 
bargaining  for  cows  in  Utrecht  that  are  prevalent 
while  dickering  for  cheeses  in  Alkmaar.  There  is 
the  same  placid  composure  on  the  part  of  the  seller, 
the  same  minute  examination  on  the  part  of  the  buyer; 
there  is  the  same  Captain  John  Smith  pose;  there  is 
the  same  whacking  of  hands ;  there  is  the  same  gen- 
eral exodus  from  the  market  place,  after  the  cere- 
monies, to  the  more  blithesome  lunchrooms  and  halls 
of  frivolity.  I  wish  I  might  have  followed  up  the 
case  of  a  cattle  dealer  whom  I  saw  in  a  certain  cafe 
after  the  market,  making  a  lunch  of  the  uncertain 
mixture  of  a  glass  of  beer  and  a  dish  of  currants. 
The  notation  of  the  after  effects  of  the  combination 
might  have  been  of  value  to  materia  medica. 

Utrecht's  famous  old  churches  have  been  pillaged 
and  desecrated  to  a  great  extent  by  the  elements  and 
the  changes  wrought  by  time  and  tide.  Once,  long 
ago,  when  the  followers  of  the  various  creeds  were 
all  at  sixes  and  sevens,  the  Munsterkerk,  the  Pieters- 
kerk,  the  Janskerk,  and  the  cathedral  itself,  no  doubt, 
with  their  cloistersful  of  clergy,  were  walled  in  and 
moated,  and  patronized  as  much  as  asylums  of  refuge 
as  for  worship.  To-day  they  are  simply  tolerated. 

[205] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

A  coffeehouse  does  a  land  office  business  in  the  arch- 
bishop's palace,  and  the  tramcar  company  has  tun- 
neled through  the  vaulted  archway  of  the  great  de- 
tached cathedral  tower  rather  than  go  to  the  trouble 
of  laying  the  tracks  around  it. 

And  what  a  cathedral  this  Gothic  curiosity  of 
Utrecht  is !  Erected  in  the  eleventh  century  upon  the 
site  of  a  former  ecclesiastical  edifice  founded  in  720, 
in  its  day  it  must  have  easily  outclassed  anything  of 
its  ilk  in  all  the  Netherlands.  Now  its  back  is 
broken,  so  to  speak,  beyond  repair,  for  in  1674  a 
violent  hurricane  that  bowled  a  spare  with  the  church 
towers  in  the  district,  tore  out  the  nave  of  the 
cathedral  and  left  the  tower  and  the  choir  com- 
pletely disconnected.  The  site  of  the  demolished 
nave  now  forms  the  center  of  the  Cathedral  Square, 
and  is  as  much  a  thoroughfare  as  any  street  in  the 
city. 

The  interior  of  the  church,  like  the  interior  of  al- 
most every  church  of  any  size  in  Holland,  offers  lit- 
tle of  originality  or  interest.  The  walls  are  covered 
with  many  layers  of  unbecoming  whitewash,  and  any 
pleasing  effect  that  the  columned  interior  might  have 
originally  had  is  lost,  for  a  portion  in  the  center  is 
boarded  up,  like  a  bull  ring  with  its  barrier,  segregat- 
ing the  inclosed  space  for  the  purpose  of  uninter- 
rupted worship.  The  one  redeeming  feature  of  the 
whole  place,  aside  from  a  few  meritorious  monuments, 
is  a  handsome  oaken  pulpit,  elaborately  carved  by 

[206] 


hand,  so  as  to  give  the  effect  of  a  miniature  cathedral 
in  itself. 

After  being  a  city  of  disabled  and  decrepit 
churches,  Utrecht  is  a  university  town,  and  the  seven 
or  eight  hundred  students  in  attendance  do  their  best 
to  emulate  the  early  ecclesiastics  by  trying  to  keep 
the  place  in  a  state  of  perennial  siege,  for  it  is  to  be 
remembered  that  the  drudgery  and  frugality  of  uni- 
versity life  in  Holland  is  not  what  it  is  cracked  up  to 
be.  In  a  way,  a  Dutch  college  education  is  a  good 
bit  of  a  farce.  The  student  is  under  very  few 
obligations  except  to  himself.  He  does  not  have  to 
appear  in  chapel;  he  does  not  even  have  to  attend 
classes,  and  there  are  a  large  number  of  students  in 
each  of  Holland's  three  universities — young  men  of 
private  fortune  who  take  up  a  course  in  law  or  what 
not,  with  no  intention  of  ever  practicing,  in  order  to 
avail  themselves  of  the  gaiety  and  freedom  of  uni- 
versity life — who  never  enter  a  lecture  room  from  one 
term's  end  to  the  other.  Consequently,  there  is  much 
hilarity  and  much  extravagance,  all  of  which  is  more 
or  less  resented  by  the  thrifty,  peaceful  townspeople, 
and  which  sometimes  places  the  two  factions  under 
strained  relations.  When  a  student  does  complete  a 
course,  having  seen  fit  to  relegate  himself  to  the  hard, 
honest  work  necessary  to  the  attainment  of  a  doc- 
tor's degree,  he  deems  it  of  such  momentous  occur- 
rence that  he  forthwith  has  his  thesis  published  in 
book  form  de  luxe,  and,  hiring  a  carriage,  which  is 

[207] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

manned  by  student  initiates  into  his  Corps,  he  drives 
in  state  to  the  residences  of  his  several  professors  and 
intimate  friends,  leaving  with  each  a  copy  of  his 
work. 

In  the  above  mentioning  of  the  Students'  Corps,  I 
have  named  a  salient  feature  of  student  life  in  Hol- 
land, and  one  which  none  of  her  universities  is  with- 
out. Although  of  broader  membership,  it  takes  the 
place  of  our  own  fraternities.  It  includes,  however, 
all  the  students  who  can  afford  to  pay  its  dues  and 
subscriptions.  A  senate,  comprising  a  rector,  a  secre- 
tary, and  three  other  functionaries,  elected  annually 
by  the  Corps  from  among  its  members  of  four  or 
more  years'  standing,  dictates  the  policy  of  the  Corps 
and  administers  its  affairs.  Any  member  of  the 
Corps  is  eligible  for  membership  in  the  Corps  Club, 
the  culminating  distinction  of  Dutch  university  life, 
or  for  any  of  its  various  subdivisions  of  athletic  or 
social  societies.  The  initiates  undergo  most  of  the 
harmless  little  byplays,  not  to  mention  some  new 
ones,  that  provide  for  such  a  halcyon  period  in  the 
careers  of  our  own  fraternal  neophytes. 

Among  its  numerous  idiosyncrasies  Utrecht  has  a 
canal,  called  the  Oude  Gracht,  that  is  unique  in 
comparison  with  other  canals  in  other  cities  in  Hol- 
land. The  water  in  this  canal  lies  far  below  the 
level  of  the  bordering  streets.  Between  the  street 
and  the  water  there  is  a  great  stone  step  that  forms 
the  real  canal  bank.  In  the  old  days  the  "  riser  " 

[208] 


UTRECHT    AND    'S  H  ERT  O  GE  N  B  O  SCH 

above  this  step  was  made  up  of  foundation  arches  of 
stone  upon  which  were  built  the  specious  mansions 
that  fronted  the  thoroughfares  alongside  the  canal. 
To  make  use  of  spaces  which  would  otherwise  be 
wasted,  these  vaulted  foundations  served  as  cellars, 
with  the  street  for  a  roof,  and  were  in  as  constant 
use  as  any  other  part  of  the  dwelling.  Most  of 
them  are  now  occupied  as  shops,  to  the  entrances 
of  which  you  must  descend  a  flight  of  steps  from 
the  roadway  above;  but  here  and  there  their  win- 
dows display  the  lace  curtain  and  the  boxful  of 
flowers  that  give  evidence  of  domestic  habitation. 

Utrecht,  too,  has  many  verdant  beauty  spots,  the 
most  verdant  being  the  Hoogeland  Park,  with  its  cir- 
cumference bordered  with  attractive  villas  and  reached 
through  a  wide  lime  avenue  they  call  the  Maliebaan. 
In  the  Antiquarian  Museum,  situate  in  the  park,  one 
may  behold  the  two  most  interesting  relics  in  the  pos- 
session of  Utrecht,  if  we  exclude,  perhaps,  the  sev- 
enty different  kinds  of  lace  on  view  in  the  Archiepis- 
copal  Museum  on  the  Nieuwe  Gracht.  These  are:  a 
table,  handsomely  and  delicately  carved,  at  which  the 
signatories  of  the  famous  Peace  of  Utrecht  were 
said  to  have  sat  in  1713 ;  and  the  "  Doll's  House,"  an 
accurate  reproduction  in  miniature  of  a  patrician 
dwelling  of  the  period,  executed  in  1680,  and  worked 
out  in  the  minutest  detail  from  cellar  to  chimney  pot, 
from  kitchen  utensils  to  genuine  oil  paintings  by  cele- 
brated masters  on  the  walls  of  the  drawing  room. 

[209] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN    SHOES 

Surrounding  Utrecht  and  penetrating  far  to  the 
east  and  the  south  are  the  great  fortifications, 
of  whose  presence  the  casual  observer  is  entirely 
unaware,  belonging  to  the  first  line  of  national 
defense  that  might  be  used  to  protect  the  Dutch 
capital  from  invasion — a  defense  in  which  she 
seeks  the  assistance  of  her  mortal  enemy,  and  dis- 
covers him  weighed  in  the  balance  and  not  found 
wanting.  Upon  a  process  of  general  inundation,  by 
fresh  water  wherever  possible  so  as  not  to  impair  the 
future  productiveness  of  the  fields,  does  Holland  de- 
pend for  her  safety  from  invasion  both  by  land 
and  by  sea.  In  the  probability  of  the  latter,  her 
power  of  self-exclusion  is  augmented  by  a  treaty  with 
Belgium,  signed  in  1892,  confirmed  in  1905,  and  only 
recently  made  public,  reserving  for  her  the  right 
to  block  the  great  estuary  of  the  Scheldt  in  case  of 
war  or  rumors  of  war.  In  times  of  peace  Belgium 
shares  with  the  Netherlands  all  rights  of  navigation 
of  the  Scheldt,  and  Holland  may  not  displace  or 
remove  buoys,  lights,  or  other  aids  to  navigation, 
without  Belgian  consent. 

But  with  regard  to  Holland's  ability  to  isolate  her- 
self by  general  inundation,  it  is  a  scheme  that  gives 
little  outward  evidence  of  being  in  operation.  A 
stranger  might  roam  within  her  boundaries  for  a 
year  and  a  day  without  even  surmising  that  such  a 
thing  could  be  accomplished,  so  successfully  are  her 
greatest  works  hidden  from  the  eye.  The  scheme 
[210] 


Z  s 

— •  o 
rt  J3 

-u    G 

rt   o 

.s  s; 


- 

4)    O. 


.S  — 

" 


0)     <1> 

1-.     U 

O  rt 

a, 

o  w 

II 


UTRECHT    AND    'S  H  ERT  O  GE  NB  O  SCH 

provides,  in  brief,  for  the  blowing  up  of  railway 
bridges  and  for  the  opening  of  the  sluice  gates  of 
great  reservoirs,  regulating  the  amount  of  water  to 
be  poured  in  over  the  country  so  that  it  should  all 
be  of  the  same  depth,  prohibiting  both  the  possibility 
of  wading  through  it  and  the  passage  of  vessels 
over  it. 

A  half  a  day,  if  time  presses,  will  suffice  to  see  Bois 
le  Due.  After  you  have  wandered  about  in  its  great 
Gothic  cathedral  of  St.  John,  one  of  the  largest  and, 
by  all  odds,  the  fanciest  church — if  a  church  can  be 
said  to  be  fancy — in  Holland,  you  will  have  done  with 
the  town.  It  holds  nothing  else  of  interest.  Al- 
though of  32,000  population,  and  the  capital  of  the 
Province  of  North  Brabant,  it  is  dull  and  unappeal- 
ing to  the  tourist.  There  are  few  types  and  few  dis- 
tinctive mannerisms.  Of  its  costumes,  the  only 
feature  is  a  headdress,  affected  by  some  of  the  coun- 
trywomen of  the  surrounding  district,  composed  of 
white  lace  and  topped  with  garlands  of  artificial 
flowers  as  ridiculous  and  disappointing  as  the  "  poke 
bonnets  "  worn  by  the  middle-aged  matrons  of  Leeu- 
warden,  and  just  as  out  of  place. 

Even  the  market  square  is  devoid  of  the  usual 
fringe  of  ancient  buildings.  Here  they  hold  a  cat- 
tle market  on  Wednesdays,  but  to  strike  every  city 
in  Holland  upon  the  day  of  its  distinctive  market 
would  necessitate  a  vast  amount  of  vibratory  travel- 
ing, which  in  itself,  and  not  considering  the  markets, 

[211] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

would  soon  grow  monotonous.  I  happened  upon  Bois 
le  Due  on  a  Saturday,  when  one  of  those  nondescript, 
unsavory  bazaars  of  cooking  utensils  and  crockery 
was  in  full  swing.  It  was  a  hot  day,  for  Holland, 
and  the  sun  beat  down  upon  the  unprotected  square 
with  a  most  uncomfortable  effect.  So  I  spent  most 
of  my  spare  time  under  the  awning  of  a  nearby  cafe 
watching  the  business  transactions  of  a  couple  of 
"  hokey-pokey  "  wagons,  decorated  and  garnished  so 
that  they  resembled  the  floats  in  a  Queen  of  the  May 
pageant. 

But  an  inspection  of  Bois  le  Due's  cathedral  will 
reimburse  any  traveler  who  has  planned  to  pay  the 
town  a  visit.  It  stands  on  the  edge  of  a  wide  parade 
ground,  not  far  from  the  market,  from  the  opposite 
side  of  which  the  church's  Gothic  gargoyles  and  en- 
tablatures can  be  seen  to  good  advantage  above  the 
trees. 

Founded  in  the  eleventh  century,  this  cathedral  was 
originally  erected  as  a  Romanesque  edifice.  After 
suffering  the  inevitable  results  of  a  devastating  con- 
flagration, it  was  rebuilt  in  the  early  half  of  the  fif- 
teenth century,  its  Romanesque  design  having  been 
discarded  and  a  late  Gothic  one  adopted.  Since  1860 
it  has  been  subjected  to  a  plan  of  restoration.  And 
not  only  from  without  is  it  a  pleasing  contrast  to 
the  usual  run  of  Dutch  churches,  but  it  is  the  only 
one  in  Holland  whose  interior,  having  marvelously 
escaped  the  iconoclasm  of  early  days,  and  having 

[212] 


UTRECHT    AND    'S  H  ERT  O  GE  N  B  O  S  C  H 

been  allowed  to  remain  undesecrated  by  the  customary 
coat  of  whitewash  and  the  central  bull  ring,  is  what 
it  ought  to  be.  The  visitor  of  to-day  may  obtain 
an  uninterrupted  view  from  one  end  of  the  cathedral 
to  the  other,  for  the  authorities,  always  in  need  of 
funds  to  carry  on  the  restorations  to  the  church,  sold 
its  handsome  choir  screen  some  years  ago  and  realized 
$4,500  on  it.  But  the  absence  of  the  screen  will 
scarcely  be  noticed  in  the  cathedral — indeed,  the  gen- 
eral effect  is  more  satisfying  without  it.  Stowed 
away,  however,  among  a  collection  of  other  ecclesi- 
astical curios  in  the  new  Victoria  and  Albert  Mu- 
seum in  South  Kensington,  London,  without  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  its  church  to  enhance  its  rich- 
ness, it  has  lost  much  of  its  beauty. 

From  Bois  le  Due  I  was  ticketed  to  quit  the  coun- 
try. I  had  seen  the  cathedral,  and  time  hung  heav- 
ily, so  I  wandered  back  to  the  station  all  of  an  hour 
before  the  scheduled  departure  of  my  train,  to  jot 
down  a  few  notes  and  indulge  in  a  few  final  musings 
upon  a  great  nation — the  only  little  thing  about  which 
I  found  to  be  its  area — a  nation  of  great  deeds  in 
peace  and  in  war,  a  nation  of  great  men,  a  nation 
that  has,  by  the  sheer  character  of  its  people,  sur- 
mounted great  obstacles,  and  a  nation  with  a  future 
as  great  as  its  past. 

Each  time  I  have  visited  Holland  I  have  been  loath 
to  leave,  but  in  more  ways  than  one  this  feeling  was 
mitigated  in  Bois  le  Due,  for  Bois  le  Due  is  a  more 
[213] 


WINDMILLS   AND   WOODEN   SHOES 

satisfactory  place  to  leave  from  than  The  Hague, 
for  example,  and  when  the  always  solicitous  station 
master,  in  black  frock  coat  and  bright  red  cap, 
finally  came  to  tell  me  that  my  train  was  due,  I  gath- 
ered together  my  impedimenta  and  followed  him  re- 
signedly toward  the  train  shed. 

As  I  passed  through  the  waiting-room  my  eye 
caught  some  lettering  over  the  mantel  of  an  artistic 
fireplace.  Its  words  pronounced  the  traveler's  bene- 
diction :  "  Goede  Rets."  Whether  he  appreciated  the 
fact  or  not,  that  old  fireplace  had  stood  there  for 
years,  wishing  the  voyageur  a  pleasant  journey,  and 
the  gentleness,  the  simple  kindliness  of  the  message 
struck  me  as  being  characteristic  of  the  men  who  put 
it  there — the  Hollanders. 


THE    END 


[214] 


INDEX 


Aanspreker,  the,  53,  54 
Acreage,  1 

Admiral  de  Ruyter,  111,  147 
Admiral   Dirkzoon,   154 
Albert  Cuyp,  41-48,  49 
Alexander  of  Parma,  66,  67 
Alkmaar,     123,     124,     137,    138, 

147,  153 

Alma  Tadema,  Laurens,   172 
Alva,     Duke     of,     20,     63,     65, 

191 

Amalia,  Princess,   84 
Amstel,  109 
Amsterdam,   1,   5,  6,   14,   55,  57, 

75,    83,    107,    108,    112,    118, 

123,    124,    127-130,    137,    147, 

150,  152,   153,   157 
Amsterdam,  Bank  of,  122 
Amusements,   88,   114,   115,   116, 

156,   157 
Animals,  57,  58 
Anjou,  Duke  of,  66,  67 
Antwerp,   20,    111 
Apeldoorn,    189-191 
Arnhem,  1,  193,  195,  198,  199 
Arras,  Bishop  of,  63 
Ary  Scheffer,  41 
Assen,  179,  182 
Atlantic,    1 
Australia,  152 

Batavia,  151 
Bathazar  Gerard,  65-69 
Beekhuizen,   198 
Bergen-op-Zoom,  34,  36,  37 
Beurs,  57 
Bicycles,   23,   24 
Biesbosch,  39 
Biljoen,    198 
Binnenhof,  41,  78-80 
Bishop  of  Arras,  63 
Bishop  of  Cambrai,  55 
Bois  le  Due,  202,  211-214 
Bonaparte,  Louis,  109,  110 
Bosch,  The,  84 
Bossu,  153 


Botanical  Gardens,  Leyden,  99 

Boymans   Museum,   50 

Broek,  129 

Bronbeek,    197 

Buiksloot,  128 

Building,  108 

Bulbs,    103,   104 

Canals,  7,  31,  34,  56,  57,  58, 
61,  91,  101,  124,  125,  127, 
131,  132,  137,  171,  173 

Canal  packets,  2 

Castricum,  147 

Catherine  of  Schwartzburg,  70 

Cats,  Father  Jacob,  18 

Cattle  raising,   173 

Charitable  institutions,  100 

Charles  V,   19,   167 

Church  of  St.  Lawrence.  50 

Cleanliness,  8,  34,  35,  59,  60,  129 

Cleve,  199 

Coen,  150 

Coinage,    8 

Coligny,  Louisa  de,   65 

Colonial  Offices,   80 

Comparative  size,  1,  2 

Conference,  International  Peace, 
84 

Conquests  of  the  sea,  4,  5 

Corcoran  Galleries,  80 

Cornelius  De  Witt,  41,  79 

Costumes,  22,  23,  135,  167,  168 

Cromwell,  Oliver,  19 

Cultivation,   91,   158 

Cuyp,  Albert,  41,  48,  49 

Dairy  products,  173 
Dam,  The,  110 
Damrak,   112,   128 
Delft,  55,  59,  60-62,  65-67,  72 
De  Noord,  40 

De  Ruyter,  Admiral,  111,  147 
Descartes,  101 
Deventer,   187 

De  Witt,  Cornelius  and  John, 
41,  79 


INDEX 


Diamond  trade,  118-120 

Dlemer  Dike,  153 

Dikes,  5-7,  26,  32,  42,  91,  92,  94, 

95,    145,    146,    153 
Dirkzoon,  Admiral,  154 
Domburg,  16,  25,  26,  100 
Domestic  animals,  57,  58 
Donrijp,   172 

Dortrecht,  29,  39,  40-44,  48 
Dou,   Gerard,   92 
Dredging,   5 
Drenthe,  176,  181 
Duke  of  Alva,  20,  63,  65,  191 
Duke  of  Anjou,  66,  67 
Duke    of    Mecklenburg-Schwerin, 

82 

Duke  of  Orange,  63 
Duke    of    York,    147 
Dutch  East  Indies,  151 
Dutch  East  India  Company,  61, 

109,   151 
Dutch  West  India  Company,  80 

Edam,    21,    124,    130,    131,    138, 

153 

Eendragtsweg,  55 
Else  Eisenga,  165 
Endegeest,  101 
England,   19 

Enkhuizen,   154,   157,   158 
Erasmus,   Desiderius,  55 
Eusibiusbinnensingel,   194 
Ewyksluis,  33 
Eyerland,  148 

Family   life,   57 

Feijenoord,    46 

Fishing,    158 

Flevo,  Lake,  159 

Floris  V,   78,    109,   138 

Flowers,   102-104,   158 

Flushing,  14,  15,  19,  20,  25 

Foolish  Betsy,  21 

France,  8 

Franeker,   165 

Franz   Hals,   105 

Frederic    of    Toledo,    104,    191, 

192 
Frederick     Henry     of     Orange, 

Prince,   84 
Friesland,  33,  63,  144,  148,  160, 

165,   168,   173 
Frisian  Monks,   5 
Frisian  Museum,  170 
Fuel,  181,  182 

[21 


Gemeelandshuis,  62 
Gerard,  Bathazar,  65-69 
Gerard  Dou,  92 
Gerard  Terburg,   183 
Germany,    8,    11 
Gevangenpoort,    36,   79 
Gherardts,  Gherardt,  54,  55 
Goes,  29,   31,  32,  34 
Goldsmith,  Oliver,  13,  92 
Government,    8 
Groningen,    123,    144,    146,    148, 

176-178 

Groote    Ryndyk,    91 
Grooteveerhaven,  55 
Grotius,  79,  92 
Guides,  76 
Gysbrecht,  109 

Haarlem,  77,  78,  102,  124 
Haarlem   Lake,   6 
Haarlem    Polder,    101 
Haarlemermeer,   5,   6,    101 
Hague,  The,   14,   24,  41,   56,  75- 

78,  80,  83,  84-86,  91,  124,  138, 

204 

Haring,    152 
Haring,  John,  153,  155 
Harlingen,    165 
Hasselaer,   Kenau,    105 
Helder,  The,  123,  128,  143-147 
Hendrik  de  Keyser,   55 
Hendrik  Landman,  17,  18,  21 
'S  Hertogenbosch,  55,  202 
Herr  van  Klaes,  52,   53 
Het   Loo,   190 
Hindeloopen,   165 
Holbein,  81 
Holland,  North,  4 
Holland,   South,  4 
Hollandsch    Diep,    39 
Homes,  57 
Hoogstraat,  83 
Hook,  The,   2,   59 
Hoorn,   130,   150,    154,   155,   157 
Hotels,  172 

IJ,  The,  124 
Imports,  49,  50 
Inundations,   5 
Inquisition,    73,    74 
Island  of  Texel,  148,  149 
Island   of   Urk,    187 
Israels,  Josef,  177 

Jansen,  Zacharias,  18,  37 
Jan  Steen,  81,  92 

6] 


INDEX 


Jan   van   Oldenbarnevelt,   79 

Joden-Breestraat,   113 

John,  Long,  16,  17,  20 

John  Lothrop  Motley,  65,  67,  72, 

73,  84,  153,  154,  192 
Josef  Israels,  177 
Juliana,   Princess,  11,  82 

Kaiser  Frledrlch's  Museum.  80 
Kalf,   Mynheer,   126 
Kalverstraat,   83,    112 
Kampen,    185,    186 
Katwyk,  100,  101 
Kenau  Uasselaer,  105 
King  William  I,   110 
Kreekerak,  34 

Lake  Flevo,   159 
Landman,  Hendrik,  17,  18,  21 
Language,  29,  30,  31 
Leeuwarden,  123,  157,  165,  168, 

169,    171 
Leyden,  6,  42,  64,  91,  92,  93,  95, 

98,   101,  104,   139 
Lieutenant  van  Speyk,  111 
Limburg,  201 
Loevenstein,    79 
Long  John,   16,   17,  20 
Louis  Bonaparte,  110 
Louis  of  Nassau,  Count,  93 
Louvre,  80 

Maas,  1,  40,  45,  46,  49,  199 
Maastricht,  201 
Maes,  Nicolas,  41 
Maps,    3,    33 
Margaret   of   Parma,    63 
Marken,  126,  127,  129,  135 
Markets,  34,  178,   194,  204,  205 
Marriage,   9-11 


Meuse,    94 

Middelburg,   15,   16,   20,   21,  22, 

24,  25,  27,  29,  64 
Ministry  of  Justice,  80 
Mint   Tower,    112 
Monnikendam,  21,  128,  129,  130, 

135 

Mons,  191 
Morsch  Gate,  99 
Motley,    John    Lothrop,    65,    67, 

72,  84,  153,  154,  192 
Municipal  Abbatoir,  121,  122 
Municipal  Pawnshop,  120,  121 
Murillo,  81 

Napoleon  Bonaparte,  24,  81 
New  Zealand,  152 
Nicolas   Maes,   41 
Nieuwediep,  148 
Noordwyk,    100 
North    Holland,    4 
North   Sea,   4,   39,   124,   144 
Nymwegen,    191,    198,    199 

Oliver  Goldsmith,  13,  92 
Oosterkade,  51 
Orange,  Prince  of,  94,  105 
Osterpoort,    150 
Over-Yssel,    176 

Parklaan,  55 
Patriotism,  12 
Paupers,   100 
Pavements,  21,  22 
Peace  Palace,  85 
Peter  the  Great,  126 
Petroleum  Harbor,  124 
Philip  II,   19,  62,  63 
Piaam,    33 

Pile  Driving,  108,  110 
Plein    1813,   83 


Marsdiep,    Strait    of,    145,    146,      polder,   7,  31,   32,   33,   101,   137 


148 

Marssum,  173 
Maurice  of  Nassau,   78 
Maurice  of  Orange,  79 
Mauritshuis,  80,  81 
Mauritsweg,  55 
Mechlin,    191 
Mecklenburg-Schwerln,  Duke  of, 

82 

Meppel,  179,  183 
Merwede,  40 
Mesdag,  H.   W.,  177 
Mesdag  Museum,  83,  172 

[217] 


Population,  1 

Potter,  Paul,  81 

Prince  of  Orange,  20,  61,  64 

Princess  Juliana,  11,  82 

Prinsenhof,    65 

Queen  Wilhelmina,  12,  74,  82, 
110,  111,  190 

Railways,  2,  7,  38,  39,  43,  57, 
80,  91,  92,  137,  157,  179,  180, 
181 


INDEX 


Reclamation,   159 
Rembrandt,  80,  92,  117 
Rembrandtplein,  112,  114 
Rhine,  The,  12,  40,  46,  50,  101, 

199 

Rljks  Museum,  116,  117 
Rosendaal,  37,  197 
Rotterdam,  1,  40,  45,  46,  48,  49, 

50,  51,  52,  54-58,  75,   79,   83, 

94,  95,  110,  124 
Royal  Palace,  82,  110 
Rubens,   81 
Rynland,  101 
Rynsburg,  101 

Scheldt,  16,  19,  34 

Schenckweg,  91 

Scheveningen,    83,    85,    87,    89, 

90,   100,    135 
Schiedam,   94,   95 
Schokland,  187 
Schools,  9 
Schouten,    150,   152 
Sea,  conquests  of  the,  4,  5 
Sea,    North,   4,    39,    124 
Shoes,  wooden,  4 
Size,    1,    2 
Smoking,  51,  52,  53 
Sneek,    165 
Society  for  the  Public  Welfare, 

100 

Solomon  Islands,  152 
Sonoy,   153 
Sonsbeek,  196 
South    Holland,   4 
Spaniards,    42,    64,    95-97,    139, 

152,  153,  191 
Spinoza,  101 
Spuistraat,  83 
St.  Nicholas  Abbey,  21 
St.  Pancras,  99 
Staple,  40,  41 

Stavoren,  157,  159,  160-164 
Steen,  Jan,  81,  92 
Storks,  173-175 

Strait  of  Marsdiep,  145,  146,  148 
Straits  Settlements,  52 
Street  railways,  51 
Sumatra,  52 
Switzerland,  8 

Tasman,  150,   151 
Tasmania,   151 
Telegraph  line,  56 
Terburg,  81,  183 

[21 


Texel,   149 

The  Hague,  14,  24,  41,  56,  75-78, 

80,    83-86,    91,    124,    138,    204 
The  Hook,  2 
The  Rhine,  12,  40,  46,  50,  101, 

199 

Tolls,    27 
Topography,   1 
Tromp,   147 
Tulips,    102-104 

Utrecht,   63,   202-204,   208 
Utrecht,  University  of,  207,  208 

Valdez,  94 

Van  der  Werf,  95 

Van   der   Werf   Park,   99 

Van  Dieman,  151 

Van  Dyke,   81 

Van  Ruysdael,  Jacob,   105 

Veere,  16,  21,  23-27 

Velasquez,  81 

Velper  Plein,  195 

Venice,  44 

Verdronkenland,   34 

Vermeer,  81 

Volendam,    124,    126,    127,    131- 

135 

Voorburg,    92 
Voorschoten,  92 
Vroek,  130 
Vrouwensand,   160 

Waal,  40,  199,  200 
Wagenaarstraat,  18 
Walcheren,  14-17,  20,  22,  24,  26 
Wegenstraat,    83 
West  Hove,  25 
Westkapelle,  26,  27 
Westplein,    46 
Wilhelminakade,  47 
Wilhelmina,   Queen,   12,    74,   82, 

110,  111,  190 
Willem'splein,  80 
Willem's  Park,  83 
William  I,  190 
William    II,    78,    79,    166,    190, 

197 

William  III,  197 
William  of   Orange,   Prince,   20, 

61,  64,  94 
William   the  Silent,  62,   63,  65, 

66,  69,  71-73,  80,  82,  93 
Windmills,  4,  125 
Wooden  shoes,  4 
Wynstraat,  41 

8] 


INDEX 


Y,  The,  124,  128  Zeeland,  4,  14,  15,  22,  27,  34,  64 

Yssel,  94,  95,  185,  191,  200  Zuid-Beveland   Canal,   34 

Zuid-Holland,   39 
Zuidplas  Polder,  7 

Zaan,   137  Zuyder  Zee,  1,  2,  4,  32,  35,  123, 

Zaandam,    123,    125,    126,    1ST,  124,    126-128,    130,    144,    157, 

147,    157  159,   166,   176,   185,   191 

Zaandvoort,  124  Zutphen,    191,    192 

Zacharias  Jansen,  37  Zwolle,  123,  179,  183 


[219] 


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